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THE WOODS-RIDER 




























“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you boys at work?’’ 






THE WOODS-RIDER 


BY 

FRANK LILLIE POLLOCK 

Author of “Wilderness ftoNEY,*' etc. 

/ 

ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

H. C. EDWARDS 

AND 

JOHN EDWIN JACKSON / 



NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1922 




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Copyright, 1922, by 
The Centubt Co. ^ 

Copyright, 1918, 1919, by 
Pbrry Mason Comfant 




PBINTID IN 17 . 8 . A. 


SEP 19 1922 


,A683377c^ 

"'aO ‘I'K 


CONTENTS 


PAOB 


CHAPTER 

I Wreck in the Woods ...... 3 

II Old Dick’s Bees . . . . . . 27 

III The River Orchard . 48 

IV Disappointment ......... 60 

V Buried Treasure ....... 87 

VI Disaster . 104 

VII Stolen Rosin . . . . . . .118 

VIII The River Island 141 

IX Bees and Rosin . 160 

X Down the River 181 

XI The Bayou Bees 201 

XII Taming the Wild Bees 221 

XIII Pirates’ Treasure 245 

XIV Under Fire 264 

XV The Treasure of Rosin 290 

XVI The Bee Raft . .311 

XVII War on the River 332 

XVIII The Harvest 361 





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

“What ’s the matter ? Why are n’t you boys at 

work ?” Frontispiece 

TACINO 

PAGK 

By its light he was able to find a strong enough piece 

of wood for a lever 12 


Apparently nobody had been there since their own 

last visit 228 


With the next daylight they began the work of tear- 
ing down Old Dick’s cabin 316 






THE WOODS-RIDER 



















THE WOODS-RIDER 


CHAPTER I 

WRECK IN THE WOODS 

L eaning from his saUdle, Joe Marshall 
looked into the cup that hung on the tur- 
pentine-tree. One side of the great long-leaf 
pine had been stripped of its bark to a height of 
three feet, leaving a tall, livid scar, sticky with 
resinous exudatfon. A thick layer of hardened 
gum crusted over its lower edge, and two tin 
gutters near the top carried the gummy oozings 
into the two-quart tin cup suspended from a hook 
driven into the tree. It was only March, but the 
weather had been unusually warm, and the gum 
was running in thin viscous threads imperceptibly 
slow, but the cup was half full of the sticky 
whitish mass. 

''1 declare, we can begin dipping soon!'’ Joe 
said to himself, glancing around at the other 
pines, which were all similarly blazed and tapped. 

3 


4 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


This was the best corner of the Burnam 
turpentine ''orchard/' The trees that grew here 
were splendid long-leaf pines, shooting up 
straight as arrows almost a hundred feet before 
they broke into palm-like branches ; and many of 
them were so large that the turpentine gatherers 
had been able to chip them on both sides, and 
hang two cups on them. 

For about two hundred yards this park-like 
growth lasted, where his horse's feet trod 
silently on the thick layer of pine-needles ; then a 
slight descent took him out into the open ground. 
The sunlight seemed blinding after the shade of 
the woods. The sky was hazily blue, radiating 
an intense heat. High overhead two buzzards 
soared in circles. The ground was a tangle of 
gallberry-bushes, and Joe rode through them by 
a trail that he followed daily on his rounds. 
From the gallberry flat it led down to a creek 
swamp, dense with titi and bay-trees and tangled 
with bamboo-vine, and it wound through this 
jungle across the creek itself. 

"Want to drink. Snowball?" said Joe, as the 
black horse showed an inclination to pause at the 
clear water; and while Snowball drank Joe dis- 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


5 

mounted and dashed water over his face and 
arms. It was unusually hot for March, even in 
southern Alabama, and from the look of the 
sky he judged that there might be thunder before 
night. 

Joe was one of Burnam’s three woods-riders, 
and it was his duty to keep his eye on the run of 
gum and the work of the negroes on a third of 
the big tract. As he rode on he encountered 
several of the ^'chippers'’ at work, making the 
regular enlargement of the blaze on the pine- 
bark; occasionally he found a tree neglected, and 
had to find the man in whose 'Turrow’’ it lay, 
reprimand him, and send him back; now and 
then he had to stop and readjust a cup that had 
become displaced. Once he found two negroes 
idling and swapping stories behind a thicket, and 
he sent them back to work with good-natured 
bullying, which they took with equal good nature. 
They understood Joe Marshall, and he under- 
stood them. 

He swung hrough the woods in a wide circle 
that would at last take him back to the camp. It 
was growing late in the afternoon, and most of 
the negroes were also straggling out of the 


6 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


woods. Provided they finished their furrow, 
they could leave when they pleased; but from 
the top of a ridge Joe caught sight of a chipper 
still at work, going at a fast trot from tree to 
tree. His clothes were ragged and there were 
not many of them; his arms were bare, and his 
black face streamed with perspiration. He 
carried a ^^turpentine-hack,’^ a tool very like a 
small pick with a keen, gouging end, and at each 
tree he ripped away with a skilful stroke another 
inch of the gummy bark at the top of the slash. 

''Seems to me you ’re working mighty hard 
for a hot day, Sam,” Joe remarked as he rode up. 

The chipper threw back his head and laughed 
loudly. Sam was one of the "Marshall negroes.” 
His father had been a slave, owned by Joe’s 
grandfather, and Joe and Sam had both been 
born on the Marshall estate, before the place 
was broken up. They were about the same age 
and had played together as white and negro chil- 
dren will. Sam had been Joe’s lieutenant in 
many a hunting and fishing expedition, and when 
Joe had taken this place as woods-rider Sam had 
come as chipper in order to work in the woods 
with him. 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


7 


^'Yes-suh, Mr. Joe!'' he cried, 'T shorely is hot, 
but I reckon de weather goin' change, an' I wants 
to finish my furrow. Jus' you look down yander 
in de souf. What you reckon cornin' up dere, 
Mr. Joe?" 

‘Thunderstorm, maybe," said Joe, looking at 
the haze over the sky, and the coppery clouds low 
in the south, rising out of the Mexican Gulf. 
Sam looked too, intent, seeming to sniff the air, 
and his eyes looked suddenly wise and far-seeing, 
like a wild animal's. 

‘T dunno, suh. Some kind o' storm, shore. 
Anyhow, I 's goin' mek for camp soon 's I finish 
my few mo' trees. Mr. Joe, you better ride back 
home." 

“Oh, a thunderstorm won't hurt us," said Joe, 
laughing, and he rode on, intending to finish his 
usual round. He was anxious to give especial 
attention to his tract that day, for the next three 
days were to be a vacation. The other two wood- 
riders had agreed to look after his duties, and 
he was going to ride over to Uncle Louis's plan- 
tation, ten miles south, to meet his cousins from 
Canada. 

He had never seen these cousins — Carl, Bob, 


8 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


and Alice Harman — children of his father’s 
sister who had married a Canadian, for they had 
never been south before, and he had never been 
north of Tennessee. Both their parents had 
been dead for some years. [The three lived to- 
gether, and, Joe understood, were in bee-keeping. 
It seemed to Joe an odd and shiftless sort of 
pursuit, especially in the land of snow and ice 
which he dimly conceived Canada to be. They 
had been in Alabama now for several weeks, and 
had been ten days at Uncle Louis’s place, where 
they were to remain till spring. Joe understood 
that they were looking for more bees, and he 
chuckled at the idea. He knew where there were 
at least a dozen bee-trees. ^'Reckon I can show 
’em all the bees they want!” he reflected. He 
had planned great entertainments for them. He 
would take them fishing for the giant Alabama 
catfish, take them ’possum hunting, show them 
the turpentine woods. 

He rode on his wide curve through the pines, 
looking after the turpentine-cups, thinking of the 
Canadian visitors, when he suddenly became 
aware that the sun had disappeared. Glancing 
up through the feathery pine crests he saw a huge 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


9 


bank of tumbled, coppery-black clouds rolling up 
fast from the south. The air seemed dead still, 
but a chill had come into it. Far away he heard a 
growl of thunder, still faint and distant, and 
Snowball tossed his head, snorted, and stamped, 
looking back nervously at his master. 

It was not the usual time of the year for 
tornadoes, but he knew how terrific these Gulf 
thunderstorms sometimes are, and he did not 
want to be caught in the pine woods where any 
tall tree might draw the flash. But he remem- 
bered a bare, open flat not half a mile away, and, 
kicking Snowball in the ribs, he started through 
the woods at a reckless gallop, over logs and 
brush without ever swerving. 

A wind rushed heavily over the trees, carrying 
a curtain of black cloud. Twilight seemed to 
fall in a single instant. Snowball was almost 
uncontrollable with fright, but he saw the open 
space ahead. As he tore out of the woods, Joe 
saw behind them a wall of blackness sweeping up 
the sky with an appalling roar. He jumped 
from the horse, scared, uncertain what to do, 
knowing well now that this was no mere thunder- 
storm. Snowball reared, jerking the bridle from 


lo THE WOODS-RIDER 

Joe’s hand, and bolted. The next moment the 
storm burst. 

The sheer force of the wind swept Joe off his 
feet and rolled him over and over. The air was 
thick with torn pine-needles, flying branches, and 
strips of bark; trees were crashing and rending, 
and there was an uproar as if a giant were tread- 
ing down the forest like grass. Rain suddenly 
came down in a blinding torrent. Half dazed, 
Joe tried to get to his feet, made a staggering run 
without knowing where he went. 

A sheet of bluish lightning seemed to explode 
just over the tree-tops. In the midst of the 
deafening thunder a great pine snapped at the 
butt, not a hundred feet away. Joe heard the 
roaring swish as it came down through the air, 
straight towards him. He made a plunge to get 
away, but stumbled ; and the next instant he was 
struck down in a whirl of snapping branches. 

That was the last he knew for several minutes 
at least. When he came to his senses, rain was 
still pouring down upon him. The ground was 
streaming with water; a cold river seemed run- 
ning under his back. The wind still blew fiercely 
but the lightning was more distant, and the worst 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


11 


of the storm seemed to have passed. He had no 
idea how long he had lain there, but the darkness 
now seemed to be, not of the storm, but of night. 

He endeavored to raise himself, and found 
that something held him down with apparently 
enormous weight. It hurt, too ; there was a pain 
in his chest, a sharp pain in his head. Dimly Joe 
imagined that the tree had fallen on him, and that 
he must be seriously wounded; but by groping 
with his hands he found that the trunk of the big 
pine had missed his body by a scant yard. His 
last jump had just saved his life, but one of the 
smaller branches had caught him across the body 
and pinned him down, though the mass of twigs 
had saved him from being crushed. Something 
had hit him on the head, too, but as he gradually 
came to himself he decided that he was not as 
badly broken to pieces as he had imagined. But 
for all his efforts, he could not work his way out 
from under the branch that pinned him fast 
down. 

He wormed himself this way and that ; he tried 
to hollow out the earth under him, until he had 
exhausted his strength. Then he shouted at the 
top of his voice, but in that roar of wind and 


12 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


splash of rain he knew that there was scarcely 
a chance of any one's hearing him. Nearly all 
the men had left the woods. 

The rain ceased to fall in torrents, slackening 
to a drizzle. The thunder already sounded far 
away. The storm was passing over as swiftly 
as it had come up. It had grown almost com- 
pletely dark when at last Joe heard the far-away 
voice of a negro calling, echoing strangely 
through the woods. He yelled in answer; the 
voice approached; and presently he heard some 
one crashing through the bushes. 

^‘Who dat a-callin'?" he heard a well-known 
voice. ^ Where is you?" 

'"Sam!" shouted Joe in delight. '"Here — ^this 
way! I 'm down under a tree." 

Sam appeared, a vague black shape in the 
blackness. 

'To' de land's sake, Mr. Joe!" he exclaimed. 
"How you git dere? Is you hurted bad? Wait 
— I git you out !" 

Sam pulled and hauled, aiding Joe's fresh 
eiiorts. He tried to shift the branch in vain, and 
it was too dark to see what he was about. Pre- 
sently he stopped, groped about in the dark for 



By its light he was able to find a strong enough piece of wood 

for a lever 




WRECK IN THE WOODS 


13 

some time, and then, squatting in a sheltered 
spot, began to scratch matches. 

They were damp, and it was some time before 
he produced a flame. Then there was a sizzle, a 
flash, and a brilliant flare sprang up. Sam had 
found a cup half full of gum, and stuck the match 
down into the resinous stuff. It flamed up like 
a huge torch, blown in the wind, casting a lurid 
light on the chaos of the fallen timber, and Sam 
elevated it on a stick where it would illuminate 
his proceedings. 

By its light he was able to find a strong enough 
piece of wood for a lever, which he inserted 
under the pine branch, and he raised it just enough 
to let Joe wriggle out. The negro solicitously 
looked him over; Joe felt himself anxiously, but 
he could not find any worse damage than a few 
bruises and a slight cut on the head just above 
his ear. 

"'No bones broken, Sam,’' he said. "T '11 be 
all right now in no time. But why were n’t you 
back at camp?” 

"Couldn’t mek it,” said Sam. "De big wind 
cotched me in de woods, an’ I just crawled under 
a log an’ laid still, scared most to death. Seemed 


H 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


like all de woods was goin’ down, an’ I reckon de 
best of ’em is down. Where de turpentine goin’ 
to come from now? Say, Mr. Joe, don’t you 
reckon dis de end of Mr. Burnam’s turpentine 
camp ?” 

The same question had already occurred to Joe 
and troubled him. It meant a great deal. 

don’t know, Sam,” he answered rather 
irritably. ‘T.et ’s try to get back to camp and 
see how things are there. Do you know where 
we are? I feel dizzy and turned around.” 

^'Yessuh, Mr. Joe, I shore knows de way!” 
cried Sam with a loud burst of laughter. ‘T ’s 
a piney-woods nigger, I is. Bawn an’ raised 
right in dese hyar woods. Could n’t lose my way 
here no-ways, no suh, capt’n!” 

To show his confidence he started at once, 
conducting his young master with one hand and 
holding the flaring torch with the other. It was 
hard traveling. The ground was covered with 
trees, large and small, blown criss-cross in every 
direction, and Joe’s heart sank more and more 
at the sight of the destruction of the turpentine 
pines. 

For he was not merely an employee of Bur- 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


15 

nam's camp. He was a shareholder. Every- 
thing he possessed in the world was tied up in 
that turpentine business. At the death of his 
father he had inl;ierited a little money, placed in 
the hands of Uncle Louis as trustee and guardian. 
As he grew out of boyhood Joe had formed the 
plan of entering the turpentine business, a com- 
merce which had been familiar to him from child- 
hood, and Uncle Louis had invested the capital 
in the new camp which Burnam was starting. 
Joe went in as woods-rider, and it was supposed 
to be a good job and a safe investment. Burnam 
was well known as a successful operator, and 
the business promised a good return. 

Uncle Louis, however, had carelessly failed 
to ascertain Burnam’s financial responsibility. 
He was thought to be solid; but of late Joe had 
heard rumors that the camp had been started on 
a little money borrowed here and there like his 
own, and that it was now being carried mainly 
by the bank. Instead of a good investment it 
was a shaky speculation. Burnam was a skilful 
and experienced turpentine man. With luck he 
might pull through successfully: but a stroke of 
misfortune would be likely to put him into bank- 


i6 THE WOODS-RIDER 

ruptcy. And it looked as if that stroke had 
come. 

Sam burned two or three more cups of gum 
before they finally came out of the wrecked 
woods, and sighted the camp, built a hundred 
yards back from the main road that led in from 
the river landing. From a distance they could 
see a swarming and rushing of torches, and hear 
the voices of men, but the camp did not seem to 
be demolished as he had feared. It was less a 
camp than a small village of nearly fifty negro 
cabins and dwellings for the white officers, built 
in a hollow square around the turpentine-still, 
the cooper-shop, the storehouse, and the com- 
missary-store. The road and the square were 
running with water, but everybody was out, and, 
to Joe’s relief, he saw that the buildings seemed 
to be intact. 

Just at the edge of the catnp he met Tom 
Morris, one of the other woods-riders. 

^'Gracious, Joe!” he exclaimed. ‘^You look as 
if you ’d been through a mill. Snowball came 
in half an hour ago, covered with mud and scared 
to death. Your saddle and rifle were on him, 
and we thought you ’d sure gone up. We were 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


17 

just getting ready to go out to look for you. 
How are the woods 

‘^Smashed up. How ’s the camp?’’ 

'"No damage to speak of. The still ’s all right, 
by good luck. The roofs of two or three cabins 
blew off, but the main track of the storm went 
a little west of us. But, say ! is n’t this going to 
hit Burnam pretty hard ?” 

^'Afraid so, Tom,” said Joe seriously. He did 
not want to discuss the matter; he felt too sore 
and uneasy. He avoided Burnam, who was 
hurrying about with Wilson, the camp foreman, 
to ascertain the damage. He went to look at 
Snowball, whom one of the negroes had unsad- 
dled and brushed down a little, and then he 
slipped into his room at Wilson’s house, where 
all the woods-riders boarded. He went to bed, 
intensely tired and aching, intending to think it 
all over ; but he was scarcely there when he fell 
soundly asleep. 

It was a little late when he awoke, to find 
brilliant sunshine at the windows. Morris, who 
shared his room, had already gone. Joe still 
felt somewhat stiff and sore, but he dressed and 
quickly went out. 


i8 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


The sky was as clear as if there h;ad never been 
a storm, and the air was full of sparkle and light- 
ness. The hard sand of the camp -square was dry 
and firm already; the surrounding pines were 
a fresh- washed, vivid green. There were not 
many signs of the tempest visible here — only an 
unroofed cabin or two, a pine that had fallen 
right into the camp area, and the brook beside 
the road that flowed muddy and bank-full. 

The routine of the camp was disorganized that 
morning. Negro women and children swarmed 
about the cabins, calling to one another; the 
chippers from the wrecked area loafed in the sun, 
smoking cigarettes, waiting for orders. Joe 
found Tom Morris near the still, talking with the 
foreman. 

‘T was waiting for you, Joe,’' said the rider. 
'Teel all right this morning? Burnam was up 
at daylight and rode off to look at the woods. 
He left word for you and me to go over your 
tracit and report. Had your breakfast? Well, 
go get it quick.” 

Joe hurried over the meal, had Snowball 
brought round, and they rode off, Wilson going 
with them. The former wagon-trail into the 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


19 


woods was badly choked with fallen timber; they 
had to make continual detours, and pick their 
way among the pines. The big turpentine tract 
lay in a rough rectangle north and south, and 
the storm, passing right down the middle, had 
raked it from end to end. The magnificent pines 
strewed the ground, were broken ofif at mid- 
height, stood leaning against one another, ready 
to fall at the next wind. Some of the gum-cups 
still clung to the trees ; others lay scattered over 
the ground, spilling their thick contents. They 
rode through this scene of wreck for a mile or 
two, and then Wilson stopped his horse. 

‘T don’t want to see no more, boys,” he an- 
nounced. ^^Looks to me like this camp ’s plumb 
ruined. I reckon we ’ll all have to hunt another 
job right soon.” 

''Oh, I don’t know,” said Morris, encourag- 
ingly. "It ain’t all as bad as right here. And 
then, Burnam ’s got the river orchard.” 

The river orchard was a tract of about five 
hundred acres lying close to the Alabama River, 
three miles away. The remainder of the tur- 
pentine woods had been merely leased for three 
years, but this tract belonged to Burnam out- 


20 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


right. He had never turpentined it, because the 
tapping of the trees materially injures them for 
timber. 

‘^Burnam won’t turpentine the river orchard,” 
said Wilson. ''He ’s saving it for timber.” 

"Well,” he continued, after a gloomy pause, "I 
s’pose I ’d better go back to camp and get some 
niggers and gather up these here cups. Better 
save what we can.” 

For two or three hours Joe and Morris rode 
through the woods, finding it a depressing spec- 
tacle. In the direct track of the storm, fortun- 
ately not very wide, it looked as if hardly any- 
thing was left fit to turpentine. Outside that 
belt the damage was not so great, but the woods 
were so choked with fallen trees and debris that 
it would take weeks of labor, it seemed, to clear 
them enough to carry on operations. 

"I was going off on a holiday to-day,” Joe 
remarked. "I reckon that ’s indefinitely post- 
poned.” 

"I don’t see why,” Morris returned. "This 
is just the time. There won’t be much woods- 
riding done for a week. The men ’ll all be busy 
clearing up the mess.” 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


21 


^Well, I ’ll see what Burnam thinks. I want 
to talk to him anyway,” said Joe. ‘T Ve got to 
find out if this camp is busted or not.” 

Burnam had come in by the time the riders got 
back, and Joe found him in his little office in the 
rear of the commissary-store, bending over a 
heap of papers and looking worried. The tur- 
pentine operator was past middle age, tall, spare, 
and wiry, burned brown by the Alabama sun. 
He had spent all his life among the pines, work- 
ing in turpentine and rosin and lumber ; he had a 
reputation for success and luck and for gener- 
osity and for a violent and uncontrollable temper. 
He had been known to draw a gun on one of his 
men, threaten him with death, discharge him and 
be ready to forget it all the next day. He was 
dressed as he had come in from riding, in flannel 
shirt and khaki leggings ; his soft black hat was 
pushed on the back of his head, and he met Joe’s 
entrance with a glance of irritation. He was in 
no smooth temper, but neither was Joe. 

''Morris and I have looked over most of the 
tract, Mr. Burnam,” Joe began. "Nearly half 
the timber looks to be down, or all tangled up. 
We can save a lot of gum by gathering up the 


22 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


cups right away, but everything is in bad shape/’ 

Burnam said nothing, but frowned as if he 
knew this already. 

‘^Is the camp going to go on, or shut down?” 
Joe ventured. 

“That ’s my business !” Burnam snapped. 

“Mine, too. You ’re forgetting that all my 
money is tied up in this outfit. It was supposed 
to be a good investment.” 

“Well, ain’t you getting ten per cent, on it?” 
Burnam demanded. 

“Yes — so far. But will I ever get the prin- 
cipal back?” 

Burnam gave him a furious glance. For 
a moment Joe expected one of the turpentine 
man’s famous explosions of rage; but then Bur- 
nam leaned back in his seat, took off his hat and 
put it on the table, and grinned. 

“I don’t blame you much for being worried, 
Joe,” he said. “You can bet that I ’m worried 
myself. But I ’ll pull through. I ’m going to 
turpentine the river orchard.” 

“All right,” said Joe, surprised and relieved. 
“Do you want me to ride it?” 

“Sure. I hadn’t intended to turpentine that 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


23 


tract, but now I Ve got to. I was looking over 
it this morning, and there ’s right smart of good 
pine there.’’ 

^^All right,” said Joe. “I ’ll do the best I can 
— I ’ll work like any nigger — for myself as well 
as for you.” 

'T reckon you ’ll pull us through, then,” re- 
turned Burnam, with some dryness. ''You were 
fixing to take a few days off now, I think.” 

"I was — but of course I won’t now,” Joe has- 
tened to say. "I would n’t leave the camp in this 
fix.” 

"No, that ’ll be all right. For the rest of this 
week the men ’ll be doing nothing but clearing up 
fallen timber. You go and visit with your kin- 
folks for three days if you like ; we can spare you 
as well as not. I can’t tet you have the car to- 
day, but to-morrow ’s boat day, and you can ride 
down to the landing and take your horse with 
you on the boat.” 

Joe had no hesitation about accepting this 
offer. He had been looking forward to seeing 
his Canadian cousins, and now he particularly 
wanted to talk to Uncle Louis about the financial 
prospect. He knew that Burnam would not let 


24 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


him go unless he could really be well spared, and 
he thanked the turpentine operator and went out, 
feeling as if he had been treated with more gener- 
osity than he deserved. 

The rest of that day he spent with Morris and 
Wilson, setting the negroes at clearing up the 
woods, collecting the scattered gum-cups, open- 
ing trails for the wagons again, and planning to 
get what turpentine could still be obtained from 
the wrecked ‘^orchard.’’ 

While he was still at breakfast the next morn- 
ing he heard the deep -roar of the river-steamer’s 
whistle resounding tremendously through the 
woods. There was no hurry; she was still far 
away, for her great siren would carry fifteen 
miles in calm weather; but as soon as he could 
finish eating he jumped on Snowball and rode 
at a gallop from the camp and down the road to 
the landing. 

It was three miles to the landing. The road, 
of yellow sand and clay, had already dried hard 
since the rain, and it ran between banks of 
brilliantly-colored clay, vermilion and greenish 
and white like striped marble. A rivulet of clear 
water ran on each side of the road, and on each 


WRECK IN THE WOODS 


25 

side rose the vivid green of the pines. As he ap- 
proached the end he passed through a belt of 
dense swamp, a tangle of creepers and thorns 
and titi-shrubs and bay-trees, and then he came 
in sight of the Alabama River. 

There was no wharf, merely a freight ware- 
house and a cotton-shed at the landing, and three 
or four men were already there looking out for 
the boat. The river was a quarter of a mile 
wide here, irunning full and strong after the 
heavy rain, wallowing around its great curves, 
muddy and opalescent. Down to the water’s 
edge the shores were densely wooded with 
sycamore and willow and cypress, overrun with 
yellow jessamine and hung with gray Spanish 
moss, and, except for the freight-shed, the scene 
must have been exactly as it had been when the 
first Spanish explorers came up from the Gulf 
to look for the fabled Indian treasure-cities. 

The steamboat’s whistle roared again, perhaps 
four or five miles away. As Joe rode up to the 
landing he saw a black object drifting slowly 
down the river. It was a houseboat — a flatboat 
with a rough cabin that covered the whole deck, 
except for a small deck-space at each end. It 


26 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


was painted or tarred a rusty black; it looked 
heavy in the water, and it moved sluggishly. A 
big steering-sweep trailed idly astern, and no 
one showed his face aboard her. 

Joe had seen many such houseboats before. 
There is a migratory population using them upon 
all the large rivers of the South; but the somber 
appearance of this one caught his attention. It 
looked vaguely sinister to him. 


CHAPTER II 


OLD dick’s bees 

T he white bulk of the steamboat came majes- 
tically around the bend, puffing pine smoke 
from her tall double chimneys, and hauled in to the 
landing. Joe was well known on the boat ; Bur- 
nam was a heavy shipper of freight, and none of 
the turpentine men ever paid anything for pas- 
sage. he was not going far, there was no 
difficulty about Snowball’s transportation either, 
and the horse was led aboard and tied among 
the piles of wood for the furnaces on the lower 
deck. 

There was an hour’s wait at the landing, and 
it was another hour down the winding river to 
Magnolia, which was the landing for Joe’s destin- 
ation. He went ashore, mounted Snowball 
again, and rode up the road through swamps and 
pine woods, till the forests gave place to more 
and more continuous cultivated fields, and at 
last he sighted his uncle’s plantation. 

27 


28 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


The great, white, rambling ante-bellum house 
stood far back from the road, in a grove of oaks 
and chinaberry-trees. Beyond it were the scat- 
tered barns and stables, and farther still the re- 
mains of a dozen cabins that had been the slave 
quarters fifty years ago. As Joe rode in the 
gate he heard a shot and a shout of laughter. 
A pretty, brown-haired, bare-headed girl was 
standing in front of the house, her extended arm 
still holding a smoking pistol, while two boys 
were applauding her shot at a paper target pinned 
to an oak. They all glanced up at the trample 
of the hoofs, and Joe took off his hat and waved 
it. He knew at once that these must be his 
cousins from the far North. 

The three young Harmans had arrived in 
Alabama in February, on a trip of combined busi- 
ness and pleasure. But for the business they 
would not have come; for it was a long way from 
their old home at Harman's Corners, Ontario, 
to these Alabama forests, and they had to plan 
carefully to stand the expenses of the journey. 

Three years before they had been left orphans, 
inheriting little but debts. Alice, however, had 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


29 

for some time been a skilful keeper of bees on a 
small scale, and they had invested all their 
worldly capital in a large outfit of bees in the 
wild country of northern Ontario. It had been 
a rough experience, sometimes a dangerous one; 
they had had plenty of adventures, and had come 
more than once within an ace of losing their 
apiary in the first season, but the venture had been 
a success. After the second season they had 
the apiary fully paid for, and the balance at the 
bank had been a growing source of satisfaction 
to them. 

They had a big crop of honey, and it might 
have been well if they had been content, but 
they were tempted by a high cash offer for their 
bees, and they sold all but fifty hives m the 
autumn, trusting to be able to replace them at 
a lower figure before the next season. But this 
turned out difficult to do. Honey was beginning 
to rise greatly in price that autumn, and looked 
as if it would be higher still next year, and no- 
body had bees for sale. On the contrary, most 
apiarists wished to buy more, for they expected 
to coin gold the next summer. 


30 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


Bitterly regretting their lost bees, the young 
Harmans searched and advertised without re- 
sult. 

^There 's only one thing to do — get bees from 
the South,’’ Alice said. 

The Southern States, with their mild winters 
and early springs, have always been a great 
source of supply for bees for the North. Of 
late years a great trade has arisen in '^pound 
packages” — a pound or two of bees and a queen, 
enclosed in a wire-screened box and shipped by 
express. Such a package of bees, put in a hive 
and provided with ready-built combs in May, 
will often build up to a powerful colony and 
gather as much honey as any wintered-over hive. 
But on investigation the Harmans found that 
prices even for Southern pound packages were 
rising to extravagant figures. 

‘Why could n’t we go down, get some bees, 
and ship them ourselves?” Bob suggested. 

It was the most attractive proposition of all. 
They wrote to Uncle Louis, whom they had never 
seen, but who had often invited them to come 
South and visit him. The letter brought a 
prompt and cordial reply. They were to come 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


31 


and spend the whole winter at his plantation. 
There were ''worlds of bees” thereabouts, he said, 
and they could be bought in that remote place 
for little or nothing. 

That settled the matter. But it was already 
well toward midwinter, and they were not able 
to leave immediately. They visited two or three 
large commercial bee-breeding ranches, spent 
some weeks in Mobile and along the Gulf, and 
then voyaged up the river to the plantation. 

It was a wonderful and novel experience to 
them, a new and fascinating world, from the 
rambling, old-time house, the mules, and the 
negroes, to the vast pine forests and the black 
swamps along the river, full of wild turkeys, 
ducks, wildcats, and moccasin snakes. But so 
far they had failed to find the "world of bees.” 
Uncle Louis had written too optimistically. 

But he gave them a welcome of Southern 
heartiness, and they enjoyed it all greatly. 
There were horses to ride, boats to row on the 
bayou, and game to shoot. Bob had brought his 
rifle and Carl his shotgun, and Alice had pur- 
chased in Mobile the long-barreled target revolver 
with which they were now practising. 


32 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


They had been expecting Joe any day, and they 
knew at once who it must be, at sight of the black 
horse with the Mexican stirrups, the rifle in its 
sheath at the saddle, and the boyish rider in dark 
khaki, with a red tie and creased rough-rider hat. 
Joe had taken some pains to get himself and his 
horse up for the occasion, and he rode up and 
dismounted. 

'T know this must be Cousin Alice, he ex- 
claimed, bowing very low over the hand of his 
cousin, who was a little disconcerted by so much 
ceremony. It was different from the abrupter 
manners of the Canadian country-folk. 

He shook hands with Bob and Carl, and there 
was an exchange of greetings, while the cousins 
all took stock of one another. They were all 
within two or three years of the same age. Alice 
had almost exactly the years of Joe. Bob Har- 
man, tall, strongly-built, fair-haired, was the 
oldest. Carl was the youngest, and his darker 
complexion recalled his mother, who had come 
from Alabama twenty years before. 

The Harmans liked the looks of their new 
cousin, and Alice was privately much impressed 
with his picturesque appearance and his Southern 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


33 


manner. They had already begun to grow ac- 
customed to the soft Alabama drawl and slurred 
speech; but Joe at first found difficulty in getting 
used to the sharper Northern accent. 

'‘Having a little pistol practice ?” he said. He 
shouted loudly for a negro, who presently came 
and led Snowball away to the stable. 

"Try a shot?” Bob suggested. "I expect you 
can beat us all. Alice bought this pistol in Mo- 
bile. She had an idea that she ’d have to carry 
a gun up here in the wild country.” 

A few rounds of shooting broke the ice, and 
they were all presently on the greatest of good 
terms. They made wild practice, and Joe was 
no better than any of them. 

"I have n’t shot much with a pistol for years,” 
he said. "I never tote one. I keep a rifle 
handy when I ’m riding, for you never know 
what you might see. I ’ll go back and get mine 
from the saddle, and we ’ll try it.” 

He hastened back to the stable and returned 
with the weapon. It was a small repeater, shoot- 
ing a twenty-five caliber smokeless cartridge, 
light enough for rabbits or turkey, and powerful 
enough to kill anything in those woods, up to a 


34 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


bear or a man. They fired a few shots apiece 
with it at fifty yards. Bob was supposed to be a 
rifle-shot, but he was far outscored by Joe, who 
was used to the little rifle, and generally fired off a 
box of cartridges a week. 

Leaving off shooting, they strolled back to the 
house and sat down on the steps of the wide ver- 
anda, overhung with budding honeysuckle. Uncle 
Louis was somewhere out on the plantation; 
Aunt Kate, his wife, was busy indoors and the 
cousins continued to grow better acquainted. Joe 
gave some account of his work in the turpentine 
industry. 

“But I believe you-all keep bees up in Canada,’’ 
he said. “That seems funny to me. I would n’t 
think they ’d do any good up there where it ’s so 
cold.” 

“It ’s a better place than down here — for bees, 
I mean,” said Alice. “It is n’t as cold as you 
think. Our summers are shorter than yours, but 
just as hot. The winters are long, but then the 
bees are packed up warm and they have a com- 
plete rest, while down here they ’re flying all the 
time, and they get worn out quicker.” 

“Did n’t know a bee ever could get worn out,” 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


35 

said Joe. ‘'But we Ve got bees here on the plan- 
tation. Didn’t Uncle Louis tell you?” 

"I believe he did say there were some,” said 
Bob. "He was going to show them to us, but we 
have not seen them.” 

"I ’ll show ’em to you, if I can find them. I 
have n’t seen them myself for a year, but I reckon 
they ’re still there.” 

He led the way down past the side of the house 
to a peach orchard. Up against the fence there 
was a growth of blackberry-canes, and there, sure 
enough, was a hum of bees. 

The Canadian experts had seen several of these 
primitive "bee-gums” since coming South, and 
they had got over the amusement that the first 
sight had caused them. The hives were boxes 
about a foot square and three feet high, standing 
on end, made of rough lumber, and showing a 
great many cracks and rotted holes, which the in- 
dustrious insects had plastered up with wax and 
propolis. From a hole at the bottom the bees 
came and went, and they were flying now in 
scores, coming in heavy with honey or with their 
legs yellow with pollen. 

"I expect they ’re working on the titi,’’ Bob re- 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


36 

marked, stooping to watch them. maybe 

there ’s some blackberry coming out in bloom.’’ 

‘'Goodness !” exclaimed Joe. ‘T did n’t sup- 
pose you ’d know what titi was. Surely you 
don’t have it up North.” 

‘T wouldn’t know a titi-tree if I saw one,” 
Bob confessed. “But before we came down here 
I read up about the Alabama honey-plants, 
and just when they all bloomed, and I know the 
titi ought to be on just about now. I wish you M 
show me some.” 

“I reckon you’re a real beeman, all right!” 
said the woods-rider, laughing. “I never knew 
there were any books about such things as honey- 
plants. Down here we just let the bees alone, 
except when they swarm, and when we rob them. 
They make honey all right, though. Why, one 
year I remember we robbed these six gums of 
pretty near a wash-tubful of honey.” 

“About sixty pounds, I expect,” Bob calcu- 
lated. “Alice, what did our best hive make last 
year?” 

“Three hundred and eighty pounds,” said Alice 
promptly. “We weighed it separately, just to 
see how much there was. Our total crop last 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


37 

year was twenty-one thousand pounds. We sold 
most of it at eleven cents.” 

Joe opened his eyes wide and glanced at all 
three of his cousins to make sure that they were 
not making fun of him. 

^What, more than two thousand dollars, just 
out of bees ?” he gasped. ''I never heard of such 
a thing before. Down here we think bees are 
just a kind of foolishness. I don’t wonder that 
you are in the business.” 

‘'Next year I ’ll bet we make four thousand 
dollars, if we can only get the bees,” said Bob. 
“You see, we were fools. We sold out most of 
our outfit just when we should have held on. 
We were offered a big price and we took the bait. 
So we came down here after more, but I don’t 
know where we are going to get them. All I can 
hear of is just a few gums like these, scattered 
here and there; and we want to get a couple of 
hundred anyway.” 

“A couple of hundred gums of bees!” mused 
Joe. “These things take my breath away — they 
sure do! But I believe you can get them. 
There ’s certainly lots of bees in this country. 

I 'd help you look for ’em, if I had time. Tell 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


38 

you what!'^ he added, remembering something, 
‘^you ought to locate Old Dick’s bees.” 

‘^Old Dick? Who’s that?” Bob inquired. 

*Why, Old Dick was a nigger that lived away 
down in the river swamps somewhere, and he had 
worlds of bees, they say. A whole yard full of 
gums. He used to ship his honey down to Mobile 
on the boat when he robbed them, and they say 
he once shipped a cake of wax that weighed a 
hundred pounds.” 

shouldn’t wonder. I expect he got more 
beeswax than honey,” Alice put in. “Well, do 
you think we could buy his bees.” 

“The old nigger ’s dead. He lived there all 
alone with his wife and the bees, and at last he 
died and his wife moved away.” 

“Then somebody must have taken the bees, 
too.” 

“No, according to the story, they were left. 
Nobody valued bees much, and nobody cared 
much to fool with Old Dick’s bees. They say 
those were fighting bees. Anyway, the old man 
died eight or ten years ago, and they say the bees 
are there yet. Anybody could get ’em that 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


39 

wanted to take ’em away. Dick did n’t have any 
heirs.” 

Alice’s eyes had grown brighter and brighter 
during this recital. 

‘^Oh, we must get them !” she exclaimed. 
‘7ust think! What a piece of luck! Likely 
there would be as many as we wanted, and 
would n’t cost us a cent.” 

‘^Do you know where they are, Joe?” Bob in- 
quired. 

‘'Have n’t the least idea, and I don’t believe 
anybody knows. Dick didn’t live on any road 
nor near anybody else. It was away down in the 
swamps by the river somewhere — several miles 
south, I reckon. I never saw anybody that had 
been to Dick’s place. I expect the whole estab- 
lishment would be grown over with vines and 
blackberries by this time. But I reckon we ought 
to be able to locate it if we looked long enough.” 

“Couldn’t you go with us? It would be just 
the sort of expedition we want,” asked Carl. “I 
expect there ’d be game and fish.” 

“Oh, yes. It ’s a mighty rough country down 
there, where hardly anybody ever goes except 


40 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


hunters. Lots of quail and turkeys, but the open 
season for them is over. Might see a bear ; lots 
of them down there, wildcats, too.’’ 

‘'We saw something of wildcats in Canada,” 
said Carl. “We lived in a deserted shanty at our 
bee-ranch in the woods. I was there alone the 
first night, and the place was alive with cats — 
tame cats gone wild, you know. Savage brutes ! 
I shot one, and got all clawed up.” 

“Bears, too,” Bob remarked. “They raided 
our bee-yards twice. I wonder if they have n’t 
chewed up all Old Dick’s bees by this time.” 

“Well, I don’t know,” said Joe. “I ’d like 
first-rate to go on a bee hunt with you, and I ’ll 
do it if I can get a few days off, a little later. In 
fact, you make me wish I was in bees along with 
you, instead of the turpentine business. Our 
camp is going to pieces, I ’m afraid.” 

“Well, if it does, you can learn honey produc- 
tion,” said Alice. “We might keep one lot of 
bees in Canada and another down here, and be 
able to work all the year around.” 

Joe laughed. Bee-keeping still seemed to him 
a very unsubstantial sort of pursuit; but he had 
been greatly impressed by what his cousins had 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


41 


said. If he only had his capital out of Burnam’s 
turpentine business, he said to himself, he would 
look into the honey business. As it was, he was 
tied fast and could do nothing, and the mention 
of the camp recalled his financial perplexities. 

That night at supper he asked Uncle Louis 
what he thought of Burnam’s financial status. 

‘The storm hit him hard,” he explained. “Half 
his orchard is wrecked. He says he ’s going to 
turpentine the river orchard — the old Marshall 
tract. He owns that, doesn’t he?” 

“I just thought that storm would hit your 
camp,” said Uncle Louis. “It missed us here — 
blowed down a few trees, but nothing to count. 
Yes, Burnam owns the old Marshall tract — used 
to belong to the grandfather of all you young 
folks — ^but it ’s mortgaged, I know for a fact. 
Pretty heavy, I reckon.” He glanced at Joe 
anxiously. “Not worrying, are you?” he in- 
quired. “Burnam ’ll pull through. But I don’t 
believe I ought to have got your money into his 
business.” 

“Oh, well, it was my fault too,” returned Joe. 
“I was wild to get into turpentine then. But 
now I ’m thinking of going into the bee business.” 


42 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


He laughed as he spoke, and so did his uncle, 
who made the usual joke about his probably get- 
ting stung. 

^'We Te going to hunt up Old Dick^s bees. 
Uncle Louis,’' Alice cried. 's going to help 

us. Do you know anything about them?” 

''Why I Ve heard the story,” said the planter, 
much amused. "I know for a fact that the old 
nigger did have right smart of bee-gums once. 
What became of ’em after he died I can’t say. I 
don’t see why some of ’em should n’t be there yet. 
There ’s nothing to kill bees in this country, ex- 
cepting thieves. Why, I knew an old gum that 
stood in a fence-corner for ten or twelve years, 
and nobody ever went near it, and the bees are 
alive and well now.” 

"That ’s the way you keep bees, too, is n’t it. 
Uncle Louis?” said Alice, slyly. 

"We ’ve got more important things to do with 
corn and cotton and hogs down here in the South, 
young lady,” said Mr. Marshall. "We don’t 
need to fool with insects.” 

There was a shout of laughter at this retort, 
which reduced Alice to silence, but the conversa- 
tion drifted irresistibly back to the bees. Joe 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


43 

heard talk of great apiaries, of colonies by the 
hundred, of tons of honey, of car-loads, indeed, 
mentioned like ordinary matters, and it filled him 
with greater and greater amazement. Even 
Uncle Louis was impressed, though he kept up his 
air of good-natured ridicule of the whole pursuit. 

^'But we certainly can’t go after Dick’s bees 
unless you go with us, Joe,” said Bob. ''We 
don’t understand this country; we have to have 
a guide. Can’t you manage it?” 

Joe shook his head doubtfully. 

"Wish I could. But I ’m afraid Burnam 
could n’t spare me for another vacation just now. 
But what you-all must do,” he added, "is to come 
up with me, and see the turpentine camp, and the 
old Marshall place — the old family seat, you 
know. Nobody’s there now; the old house is 
rotting down. It won’t last much longer.” 

The young Harmans accepted this proposition 
with enthusiasm. They all spent three active 
days on the plantation. They rode, practised 
with firearms, fished in the bayou and the river, 
hunted quail and rabbits, and once went out be- 
fore dawn to stalk a wild-turkey roost — not to 
shoot, for the game was out of season, but to 


44 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


give the Northerners a look at the big birds. 
The cousins became great friends, and at the 
end of Joe’s holiday they all took the boat 
upstream together for Marshall’s Landing, as 
the place was still called. 

From the landing they walked a mile through 
the woods to see the old house where their par- 
ents had been born, paintless now, crumbling and 
dilapidated. The glass was gone from the win- 
dows; there were birds’ nests in all the rooms, 
and a drove of half-wild hogs had made a bur- 
row under the building. Like most deserted 
houses in the South, it was reputed by the negroes 
to be haunted. 

‘^Over there is the river orchard, that Burnam 
owns,” said Joe, pointing toward the river. ‘^All 
this used to belong to our people. They had over 
a hundred slaves, and used to grow hundreds of 
bales of cotton in the river-bottoms. I expect 
they owned ten thousand acres then, but it was 
mainly timbered, and timber was n’t worth any- 
thing in those days. Only the bottom-lands were 
considered any account.” 

They roamed curiously over the old place with 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


45 

its relics of flower-beds, its fruit orchard, and 
its chinaberry and walnut-trees, and then walked 
back to the landing. A rural telephone con- 
nected it with the camp, and Joe rang up the com- 
missary-store and begged for Burnam’s car to 
be sent over, if it was not being used at the mo- 
ment. 

It came in half an hour, and the Harmans 
drove over to the camp, while Joe rode behind. 
The turpentine camp was another novel sight 
to the Northerners, and by good luck the still 
happened to be working. The men had collected 
enough gum from the wrecked tract to fill the 
retort, and they were ‘Tunning a charge.” 

Joe had nothing to do with this process, and 
he explained the operation to his cousins. The 
heavy barrels of gum were hoisted up to the plat- 
form above the furnace and emptied into the 
great copper retort, together with a certain 
amount of water. The copper cap was screwed 
down, and a fire lighted under the retort. Pres- 
ently a trickle of colorless fluid began to come 
through the twisted worm of the condenser. It 
was the turpentine spirit, evaporating more 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


46 

quickly than water, and this was run off into 
a barrel, until it ceased and pure water began to 
come through the pipe. 

The turpentine being all out, the negroes 
opened a gate at the bottom of the retort, letting 
out a great gush of black, boiling rosin, which 
ran into a trough, passing through three strain- 
ers. Still liquid and intensely hot, it was then 
ladled out into barrels, where it cooled and hard- 
ened, ready to be shipped. This rosin was worth 
six or seven dollars a barrel, and was a most 
valuable by-product of the turpentine industry. 

All this was an old story to Joe, but it was 
fresh and exciting to the Canadians. Alice in 
particular was bubbling with enthusiasm. She 
made friends at once with the camp foreman and 
with Burnam himself, who, amused at her intense 
interest in the camp, conducted her about person- 
ally and showed her everything. He insisted that 
they should stay over at the camp till the next day, 
when he promised to send them home in his car. 

So they stayed, having supper that night at the 
great table with all the white officers of the camp. 
Alice was placed in the seat of honor next to 
Burnam, with whom she was carrying on a 


OLD DICK’S BEES 


47 

laughing and chaffing dialogue, when she said 
suddenly : 

''Mr. Burnam, I want you to do something for 
us. We ’re going on an exploring trip into the 
woods soon, for three or four days, and we must 
have some one with us who knows the country. 
We want you to let us have Cousin Joe.” 

"Down here in the South we never refuse any- 
thing to a lady,” returned the turpentine man. 
"And when she ’s young and pretty like you we 
give her everything without asking. Sure you 
can have Joe if you want him.” 

Alice blushed hotly at this, and Joe, taken by 
surprise, started to protest. 

"No, I ’ll be able to spare him for a while, as 
soon as we get the cups hung and the gum run- 
ning in the river orchard,” Burnam went on more 
seriously. "Fact is, with half our tract ruined, 
I don’t really need three woods-riders any more. 
As soon as he gets the new orchard started Mor- 
ris can look after it for a few days.” 

"I knew you could fix it!” exclaimed Alice, 
beaming. 

"But he ’ll have to work double hard when he 
gets back, to make up,” said Burnam, with 
affected severity. 


CHAPTER III 


THE RIVER ORCHARD 

T he next morning, after his cousins had de- 
parted in Burnam’s automobile, Joe rode 
down to look over the river orchard, feeling con- 
siderably more optimistic about the future. Bur- 
nam had appeared good-natured and confident; 
all might yet be well with the camp. The notion 
of the honey business, too, had taken strong hold 
on Joe’s imagination. He had as yet only the 
vaguest conception of how it was practised, but 
as he rode down toward the river he turned over 
in his mind the astonishing things he had heard 
from his cousins. Alice had appeared the chief 
expert. The others always deferred to her 
opinion when it came to bees; and Joe thought 
he had never seen a girl so clever, so practical, 
and so alive with enthusiasm and spirits. 

He took the seldom-used road that they had 
traveled the day before, up past the old Marshall 
48 


THE RIVER ORCHARD 


49 

house, and then by a trail down into the woods of 
the river orchard. That great tract of pine had 
a very special interest to Joe, for, as he had ex- 
plained to the Harmans, it had belonged to their 
family, he had been born on it himself, and with a 
little good luck it might have been his own that 
day. 

Before the Civil War it had formed part of the 
great Marshall estate that lay along the river. 
The property had been huge in area but of little 
cash value, for most of it was uncleared and un- 
cultivated. Lumber was of no value then; tur- 
pentine was not worth much, though Joe’s grand- 
father had operated a small still somewhere in 
the woods, shipping turpentine down to Mobile 
and throwing the rosin away. That had been 
more than half a century ago, and no one now 
knew even where the still had been located. 

The old-time Marshalls, like many Southern 
families, had not been thrifty. They sold land 
recklessly and for a trifle. Joe’s own father had 
inherited not two thousand acres, of which not 
one-tenth was under cultivation. Joe could re- 
member the series of bad cotton crops, of too wet 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


50 

summers, of floodings by the river, that had al- 
most ruined his father. At last, weary of hard 
luck, Mr. Marshall had sold the whole property 
for six dollars an acre, and moved to Mobile. 

No one moved into the old mansion, which fell 
into decay. The new owner lived forty miles 
distant. He rented out part of the land, let out 
part to be farmed for him on shares, and sold to 
Burnam the tract of pine land toward the river. 

When Joe was fifteen his father had died. 
The boy had neither sisters nor brothers, and his 
mother had been dead eight years. Almost his 
only link with humanity was his uncle Louis 
Marshall, and the negro boy Sam, who had come 
to Mobile with the family. 

Joe had inherited three thousand dollars — all 
that was left of the once splendid Marshall prop- 
erty. He was graduated shortly afterwards 
from the Mobile Academy, and became much 
attracted by the turpentine business. He did not 
care for the city; he had been brought up in the 
woods, and they called to him. When Uncle 
Louis, who was trustee of his money, mentioned 
that he might put it into Burnam's new camp, 
with the additional inducement of a job as woods- 


THE RIVER ORCHARD 


51 


rider at seventy-five dollars a month, the boy was 
enthusiastic. It was as much his fault as Uncle 
Louis’s that the proposition had been accepted. 
Sam was also wild with delight. Since Mr. 
Marshall’s death he had been working in a whole- 
sale warehouse, but he remained at heart, as he 
said, ''a piney-woods nigger,” and he took it for 
granted that he was to go into turpentining with 
his young master. 

Burnam had leased the tract for the usual three 
years. It is not considered profitable to work 
the same pine for a longer term. The first 
summer all had gone well ; the big still had been 
working twice a week, and almost weekly the 
river boat had carried a cargo of turpentine and 
rosin barrels down to Mobile. The second season 
had also started with great promise, but now the 
storm had dealt it a staggering blow. 

However, to turpentine the river orchard 
might save the situation. Joe rode observantly 
through the woods, growing more hopeful as he 
estimated the number of pines. There must be, 
he decided, three or four ‘^crops,” of about ten 
thousand trees each, and the trees were vigorous 
and well grown. The river acres might, after 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


52 

all, compensate for the damage that the tornado 
had done to the rest of the tract ; for down by the 
river the wind seemed to have worked little in- 
jury. Few trees had fallen except dead ones, 
which were useless anyway. 

For years this tract of woods had not been 
much visited. It was badly grown up with black- 
berry-thickets and underbrush, and would need 
a great deal of clearing out before turpentining 
could be fairly started. Quail rose occasionally 
from open glades; rabbits scurried away almost 
from under Snowball's hoofs, and once the horse 
stopped, snorting and scared, afraid to advance. 
A small rattlesnake was coiled right in the path, 
refusing to move. It vibrated its two-buttoned 
tail with an almost imperceptible sound, and Joe 
had to ride around it. In the moist earth of a 
creek-bottom he perceived a track much resem- 
bling that of a bear, and it made him think of the 
proposed camping expedition with his cousins. 
He might be able to make it within a week, and 
he reminded himself to inquire among the ne- 
groes if any of them knew the location of Old 
Dick's cabin. 

Joe was feeling more cheerful as he rode back 


THE RIVER ORCHARD 


53 

to the camp, late for the dinner-hour, but he got 
a reminder at once of the precarious position. It 
was Saturday; it was pay-day, but Joe had quite 
forgotten this fact until he saw the crowd of ne- 
groes lounging and waiting outside the com- 
missary-store. They were waiting to get their 
wages, which they would immediately spend over 
the counter again for pork and meal and mo- 
lasses and calico and tobacco. Prices were high 
at the commissary, too, and it was not the least 
profitable part of the camp. 

But no money was going yet, though it was 
long past the usual hour. Joe dismounted and 
went into the store. The cashier's window was 
closed ; there was a sound of talking in Burnam’s 
inner office. Joe saw anxiety on the black faces, 
and overheard a scrap of talk between two “chip- 
pers," who were planning to leave for another 
camp. There seemed to be a general impression 
that Burnam's business was bankrupt. 

Joe saw to his horse being put away, and re- 
turned to the store. For the first time he noticed 
a muddy automobile, a strange one, standing on 
the road. Tom Morris presently came up and 
joined him. 


54 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


'They ’re fighting it out in the office/’ he ob- 
served. "A fellow from the bank came over in 
that car this morning, and he ’s been in there 
ever since, arguing with Burnam, I reckon. I 
don’t know whether he brought over the cash for 
the pay-roll or not. We ’ll soon see now if the 
bank ’s going to carry us any longer.” 

It must have been a hard battle, for the office 
remained closed for nearly an hour more. Bur- 
nam came out, looking worried, and called for 
Wilson, who entered the conference. Finally the 
bank man came out, got into his car, and drove 
away. All the waiting camp was tense with ex- 
pectation, but Burnam had won this time. 
Within five minutes the cashier opened his wicket 
and began to pay the men. 

As soon as he could see Burnam, Joe made his 
detailed report on the river tract and got his 
instructions. Work was to be started as quickly 
as it possibly could, with all the negroes that 
could be spared from the other orchards; and 
early next morning Joe went down with three 
wagon-loads of men to clean up the woods. 

As he had foreseen, it was a heavy job. The 
negroes cut down the dense blackberry-thickets. 


THE RIVER ORCHARD 


raked away the pine-needles and chips from the 
trees that were to be tapped, piled up the brush- 
wood, and cut trails for the wagons. Fire is the 
most terrible of perils in a turpentine forest, and 
the first duty is always to clear up all inflammable 
rubbish. 

There were occasional bits of excitement as the 
work went on. Rabbits bobbed out from under 
the brush-heaps; the negroes killed two or three 
with clubs. Once they disturbed a nesting wild 
turkey on an oak ridge. Snakes of all sorts were 
plentiful; one of the men killed a large kingsnake 
in a blackberry-thicket. A little later Joe was 
attracted by a great uproar of whoops and shout- 
ing. The negroes had driven an enormous dia- 
mond-back rattlesnake out of its lair, and were 
gathered round it at a respectful distance, laugh- 
ing and daring one another to approach it. The 
serpent lay coiled, with the tip of its buzzing tail 
lifted, and -its flat, sinister head turned grimly to- 
ward its enemies. It would not run, it was ready 
to fight, but no one cared to encounter it, till Joe 
drew the little rifle from its sheath at his saddle. 
He missed the first shot, but the second bullet went 
through the snake’s head. The men shouted and 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


56 

cheered, and when the serpent ceased to struggle 
one of them cut off its rattles and brought them 
to Joe. There were eight and a button; and he 
put them in his pocket, thinking of a curiosity 
for his cousins. 

One day’s work cleared up a good many acres. 
While the cleaning gang 'moved on to a fresh area 
the next day, a second gang came down from the 
camp to chip and ‘^stick tin” on the prepared 
ground. The new men worked in pairs, one 
carrying the hack and the other the cups and the 
tin gutters. While the first ripped a broad, V- 
shaped gash in the pine-bark with his keen tool, 
the second fixed the two gutters in place, and 
hung the cup under them on a nail. These men 
were expert ‘‘turpentine niggers”; they worked 
fast, and by night several thousand trees were 
beginning to drip gum. 

Meanwhile more of the woods had been cleared 
up and was ready to be tapped. Joe drove the 
men to their utmost efforts; and they worked 
valiantly. In three days the whole orchard was 
cleaned up and cut with trails, and most of the 
chipping was done. Burnam came over and 
rode rapidly through, going away without say- 


THE RIVER ORCHARD 


57 

ing anything, but Joe knew that he was pleased. 
The river tract gang had made the biggest week’s 
wages of their lives, and Joe thought with some 
apprehension of the Saturday pay bill; but the 
cashier opened his wicket punctually this time, 
and the commissary did a roaring trade for the 
rest of the day. Evidently the bank had not yet 
shut down on Burnam. 

By the first of the next week all the tin was 
stuck and the cups hung in the new tract. The 
weather had been unusually hot and there had 
been a wonderful run of gum for so early in the 
season, but now a sudden cold wave came over. 
The nights were chilly; fires blazed in all the 
negro cabins, and the gilm ceased to trickle. 

It was another' piece of hard luck. There 
would be no more flow until -the weather turned 
hot again, and the cold wave was overspreading 
the whole country, with no prospect of immediate 
change. There was not much to do in the woods. 
Joe rode mechanically, thinking that it was a 
great opportunity for his promised holiday, but 
he disliked reminding Burnam of his promise. 

The pine woods lay well back from the river, 
and Joe seldom went down to the water, but to- 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


58 

day Snowball broke loose during the noon-hour 
and wandered toward the bottom lands, probably 
in search of better grazing than he could find 
among the pines. Joe did not discover it for half 
an hour, and it took him some time to find and 
catch the horse. He was riding along the shore 
when he was startled to notice the marks on the 
bank where a large boat had been tied up. There 
were the ashes of a camp-fire ashore, too, scat- 
tered pork bones, a broken bottle, and several 
scraps of cloth. Evidently some of the river 
nomads had camped there, and Joe at once re- 
membered the black houseboat that he had seen 
floating down past the landing. It could not have 
been that one, however, for it was gone never to 
return. Such houseboats have no means of pro- 
pulsion, and cannot return against the stream 
without being towed. 

The camp looked several days old, and it was 
a matter of no particular importance. Joe went 
back to the orchard, glancing into the turpentine- 
cups that still hung unfilled, and was astonished 
to meet Burnam at the upper end of the range. 

^^Getting any gum, Marshall?'’ he inquired. 


THE RIVER ORCHARD 


59 

'"Not a drop since the cold spell/’ returned Joe 
drearily. 

''Well, never mind!” said Burnam. "It’s 
bound to turn warm again. But everything ’s 
dead just now, and I reckon this is just the time 
to send you down to that pretty cousin of yours. 
Want to go?” 

'iWell — as you say, there is n’t much to do,” 
said Joe. "If I ’m going to take a holiday, this 
is the time for it.” 

"All right,” said the operator. "You ’ve done 
a big week’s work here, and you deserve it. 
Wilson ’ll drive you down in my car in the morn- 
ing. Tell your cousin that I ’ve kept my promise, 
and that you 've got to bring her up to visit us 
again.” 


CHAPTER IV 


DISAPPOINTMENT 

J OE had already made many inquiries among 
the turpentine negroes about Old Dick's 
bees, but had not obtained any definite infor- 
mation. Everybody had heard the story; Dick's 
bees had become legendary in that district, but 
nobody seemed to have any idea where they had 
been situated. They were certainly somewhere 
down the river, and, most agreed, on the other 
side, but estimates of the distance ranged from 
five to fifty miles. One man declared Old Dick 
had dwelt in the River Island, a tangled and al- 
most unknown swamp thirty miles down the 
stream; but this was highly improbable. He 
hoped that his cousins had been able to learn 
something more accurate; but in reality he had 
very little idea that they would ever be able to 
find the old negro's apiary, or that they could do 
anything with it if they did. 

6o 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


6i 


Joe’s arrival was unexpected, but he got a 
great welcome. The Harmans had been active 
during his absence. They had walked and 
driven about the country with characteristic 
energy, and had discovered about thirty ‘‘gums” 
of bees which the owners were willing to sell at 
prices of seventy-five cents or a dollar apiece. 
It was not many, but these bees would be better 
than nothing. They had also made assiduous 
inquiries about Old Dick, but had been little more 
successful than Joe. 

“They all say he lived quite close to the river,” 
said Alice. “He used to send away his wax 
and honey on the steamboat. And it seems he 
lived near a big bayou opening ofif the river. 
Some say it was ten miles down, and some say 
twenty.” 

“There must be only a limited number of big 
bayous between ten and twenty miles from here,” 
said Bob. “Seems to me we might look into 
them all, if necessary.” 

Joe laughed. He knew the wild and impene- 
trable nature of that bayou country, which his 
cousins had little idea of. He was ready for the 
trip all the same. The Harmans had already 


62 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


made a rough scheme for it, and their plans took 
shape as they talked. 

Of course they would have to go by water, and 
fortunately Uncle Louis owned a good boat at the 
landing, which he put at their service. He also 
had a small shelter-tent, and he told them to help 
themselves to all the grub and cooking-utensils 
they could find about the place. 

^'But supposing we do find the bees. Uncle 
Louis,’' Alice asked, ^Vho do they belong to? 
Would we be allowed to have them?” 

“Who 's to stop you?” returned the planter. 
“The law is that bees become wild animals when 
nobody 's keeping them. Anybody can take 
them, same 's a bee-tree. Besides, I know all 
the land-owners from here to Mobile, and I could 
fix it. No, you-all find your bees, and raft ’em 
off, and you can have ’em all right. You ’ll sure 
deserve them.” 

“There might be a hundred gums there,” said 
Alice optimistically. “We could extract the 
honey and melt up the wax, and drive all the bees 
into wire-cloth cages, and express them home. 
Just think what a crop they ’d make for us on the 
Ontario clover !” 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


63 

^^And think of all the wax we ’d get from the 
old gumsT’ said Carl, with equal enthusiasm. 
“Two or three pounds to the gum and it ’s worth 
fifty cents now.’' 

“But of course you 're not thinking of going 
on this hunt with us, Allie,” said Bob. “You 
could n’t go. It would be much too rough a trip 
for you, through the swamps. Would n’t it, 
Joe?” 

“Too rough!” cried his sister indignantly. “I 
guess it won’t be any rougher than our first 
season in the north woods, with bears and thieves 
and forest fires. As if I could n’t go anywhere 
you could! What do you think I came South 
for? I should rather think I am going!” 

“Surely she can go,” Joe put in. “There won’t 
be any danger.” 

Bob only laughed. He knew well that Alice 
could not be kept out of any such adventure, and 
in fact she was as capable of traveling through 
the wilderness as either of her brothers. Prob- 
ably he would have objected strongly to leaving 
her behind, indeed, for she was a great expert in 
camp cookery. 

As they expected to be out only three or four 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


64 

days they did not need a heavy outfit. Joe had 
brought his rifle, his cousins their own fire-arms, 
including Alice’s pistol, which she wore strapped 
around her waist in a belt of cartridges. 
They had fishing-tackle, and they carried several 
loaves of fresh-baked ^flight-bread,^’ with pork, 
corn-meal, and a large number ^ of hard-boiled 
eggs. One of the plantation mule wagons car- 
ried them and their equipment down to Magnolia 
Landing early the next morning, and they em- 
barked aboard the boat and started down the big 
river. 

For two hours they went on, rowing and float- 
ing with the current, round bend after bend of 
the twisting stream, banked on each side with 
the incessant swamps and forests. Occasionally 
there was a bottom-land patch of corn ; occasion- 
ally a glimpse of low pasture where scrawny and 
half-wild cattle were grazing. 

^'What a different country from Canada!” 
Alice remarked. 

All the Harmans had been secretly impressed 
with the desolation of the scene, the pitiful farm- 
ing, the dwarfed cattle, so different from the 
great Holsteins and Herefords of the Ontario 


DISAPPOINTMENT 65 

clover-pastures; but they had been too polite to 
voice their impressions to Joe. 

^'Yes, this is no country for farming/’ Joe 
admitted. ‘'Land too poor, I reckon. It ’s a 
turpentine and timber country. What they ’ll do 
when the pine is all cut off I can’t imagine. But 
this sand strip along the river is the very worst 
bit of the State. North and east of here you ’ll 
see as fine plantations as anywhere in the world.” 

“But this is a great country for cheap bees,” 
said Bob, “and that ’s the main thing just now. 
When do you suppose we’re coming to that big 
bayou?” 

Joe thought they must have come six or eight 
miles, and within another mile a wide opening 
did appear on the other shore of the river. They 
pushed the boat into it with great hopes. On 
either side it was tangled with dense cypress and 
sycamore and cotton wood, heavy-laden with 
gray Spanish moss, but within fifty yards it 
shoaled off into a morass of liquid mud.” 

“This certainly is n’t it,” said Carl, contemplat- 
ing the depressing spectacle. 

“No, Old Dick never lived here,” Joe admitted. 
“Well, there are plenty more bayous to look at.” 


66 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


As they returned to the river the steamboat 
passed, coming up from Mobile, and blew a deaf- 
ening blast from her whistle as they waved at 
her from the rowboat. It was the first hu- 
man life they had seen since leaving the land- 
ing. 

As Joe had said, there were plenty more bayous 
and creeks. For a while it seemed that there was 
a fresh one every hundred yards. Some of them 
proved choked and impassable with fallen timber; 
some were too shallow to navigate far ; once they 
got far in and became involved in a maze of 
backwater channels, shut in by thickets of titi and 
bay-trees, tangled with rattan and bamboo-vine. 
Moccasin snakes popped into the sluggish waters ; 
birds strange to the Canadians shrieked discord- 
antly overhead; lizards darted up and down the 
tree-trunks ; but there was no spot where a cabin 
had ever stood, nor anything resembling a bee- 
yard. 

Growing very tired of being cramped in the 
boat, they went ashore after another quarter of a 
mile down-stream, where the land seemed 
unusually high and dry. It was ‘^hammock 
land,” only occasionally overflowed by high 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


67 

water, wooded with black-gum and bay-trees, and 
the moist earth bore dense clumps of palmetto. 
Through this they walked inland till they came 
to still higher pine woods, then circled around to 
the left till they came back to the river again, 
without having seen anything encouraging. 

‘T suppose we might as well have dinner,’’ Joe 
suggested. '‘This treasure-hunting is hungry 
work.” 

They lunched plentifully, though simply, on 
bread and butter and cold boiled eggs, without 
lighting a fire. There was plenty of drinking 
water in the river; it looked muddy indeed, but 
Joe assured them that it was perfectly wholesome. 
There was not much inducement to linger after 
they had finished eating. The air of the ham- 
mock woods was damp and chilly, deeply shaded 
from the sun, and they got into the boat and 
floated down the river again. 

All that afternoon they spent in the same fruit- 
less exploration of swamp and creek-mouth and 
bayou. Wherever the shores looked reasonably 
dry they landed and searched up and down and 
half a mile inland, but found nothing that even 
suggested a deserted cabin. They found the plain 


68 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


tracks of a drove of wild turkeys in the damp soil ; 
they could have shot plenty of quail, but these 
birds were out of season, and they had provisions 
enough not to be in need of game. Carl took to 
fishing from the boat, and landed three or four 
‘'yellow cats,’' differing greatly from the North- 
ern catfish, which they reserved for supper. 
Persevering in his angling, Carl presently hooked 
something that took out all his line, something 
living that nevertheless hung like a dead weight 
of hundreds of pounds on the hook. Carl had 
the end of the line injudiciously tied around his 
wrist; the skin under the loop turned purple, and 
he was nearly pulled overboard with the strain. 

Joe snatched out his knife and cut the line. 
Carl sunk back, not yet over his surprise. 

“What on earth was it?” he gasped. “An 
alligator ?” 

“Likely a big catfish,” said Joe laughing. 
“They get mighty big in the Alabama — sometimes 
over a hundred pounds. You can’t land one of 
those fellows on a line, but it is n’t often they 
take a bait. He ’d have pulled you over if you ’d 
held on.” 

Recovering from his shock, Carl presently 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


69 

resumed fishing, but he hooked no more danger- 
ous monsters. The smaller catfish, of a pound 
or two, were plentiful enough, but Alice looked 
upon them with some aversion. 

can cook trout better than anybody in the 
world,” she declared modestly. "'But I don't 
know whether I can do anything with these crea- 
tures.” 

They turned out excellent that night, however, 
fried with slices of bacon, and Alice also pro- 
duced a pan of fresh hoe-cake — an accomplish- 
ment which she had acquired during her stay at 
the plantation. They had coffee, too, and more 
eggs, and a jar of fig-preserves which Aunt Kate 
had slipped among the more substantial provi- 
sions. 

A damp fog had fallen on the river and the 
swamps, and felt intensely cold. They were on si 
strip of high land a hundred yards back from 
the water, but the air seemed impregnated with 
vapor. They built up the fire to a great blaze 
with dry pine and cypress, like a Canadian camp, 
'Bob said, and they sat beside it until Alice, de- 
claring that she was tired, went to her tent in 
the background. 


70 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


The three boys piled fresh wood on the fire and 
rolled up in their blankets in the warmth. They 
were all rather depressed and disinclined to talk 
much. The exploring trip was turning out dis- 
appointingly. Joe had a sense of guilt. It was 
he who had first suggested finding the lost bee- 
yard, and his cousins were neither finding any 
bees nor having any sport. He was losing what 
faith he had ever had in Old Dick, and he made 
up his mind that if they had no success on the 
morrow they had better go home. He would 
help them to find gums among the farmers. 
Meanwhile he would organize some amusements 
— a grand ’possum and coon hunt. In the midst 
of these schemes he fell asleep. 

But in the morning they all felt more cheerful, 
after plenty of fried ham, hot coflee, and corn- 
bread. It was clear and sunny; a mocking-bird 
sang gloriously from a bay-tree overhead, and it 
had turned warmer. The cold wave seemed to 
be broken. 

‘The gum ’ll be running again in a day or two 
if it turns warm, and they ’ll be wanting me back 
at the camp,” Joe remarked. 

“Perhaps we ’d better go back to-morrow,” 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


71 

said Alice. '"But I have a feeling that some- 
thing is going to happen to-day.'' 

Something did happen, which came within a 
hair's-breadth of turning into a tragedy. They 
floated down the river after breakfast, explored 
one creek-^nouth after another, landed several 
times, always with the same discouraging failure 
to find any deserted cabin. About noon they 
rowed into a broad, shallow bayou and landed 
to explore in different directions, Joe following 
the bayou upwards. Bob up the river shore, and 
Carl in a midway direction. Alice elected to 
stay with the boat. She did not care to walk, 
and she had a belief that if she sat quietly by the 
bayou she might see an alligator, for which pur- 
pose she borrowed Joe's rifle. 

Joe wandered up the swampy shore of the ba- 
you for nearly a mile, when it dwindled away 
into a small creek. He diverged into a tract of 
hammock land, circled through this for some 
time, crossed the head of the bayou, and came 
down on the other side. 

Approaching the river eventually, he saw the 
boat drawn up on the shore opposite him, but 
Alice was nowhere in sight. He shouted several 


72 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


times; he wanted to be ferried across; but there 
was no answer. He became slightly uneasy, 
though he could not think of any real danger. 
Probably, he thought, she was ambushed by the 
river out of hearing, on the watch for an alli- 
gator; but when he could get no response to his 
shouting he determined to wade the bayou. 

He did not think there was more than two or 
three feet of water in it, and he splashed in with- 
out hesitation. The bottom was soft sand and 
mud, and he had to step quickly to keep from 
sinking in it. It gave him a slight sense of un- 
easiness, but in his anxiety to get across he 
waded ahead till he was mear the center of the 
bayou. 

Then one foot suddenly went down in the mud 
far over the ankle. He stumbled and tried to 
pull it out, and the other foot went even deeper. 
Instantly realizing his danger, he threw himself 
forward in the water and tried to swim, but he 
failed to pull himself free; he went under, gasp- 
ing; he endeavored to get back to his balance, 
and found that his legs were down almost to the 
knees in the loose, apparently bottomless sandy 
mud. 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


73 


Joe knew the peril of these treacherous sloughs, 
where hogs and cattle are frequently engulfed, 
and, rarely, a human being. He struggled to 
free himself; he tried to trample his way up. 
But the stuff was thick enough to hold him, not 
thick enough to afford any purchase, and his 
efforts seemed only to sink him deeper. 

He stood still and shouted again at the top of 
his voice. He could hear the echo far over the 
swamp, but there was no answer. The surface 
of the water was rising well over his waist; it 
was creeping up with frightful speed. 

The boat lay there, not a hundred feet away. 
He could see the tin bucket in it, and the rolled- 
up tent and blankets. It seemed incredible that 
he could not reach it. He tried again to wallow 
forward. 

His efforts carried him down. Throwing his 
weight well on one foot sank it deeper. He was 
down almost hip-deep in the mud ; the water was 
rising over his chest. 

Afraid now to stir, he stood still and shouted 
again and again. A deadly chill seemed to be 
creeping up from his legs. His feet felt numb 
and paralyzed. He felt the slow, terrible sink- 


74 the WOODS-RIDER 

ing, as if some malignant force had him by the 
feet. 

From somewhere very far away he thought 
he heard one of the boys answer his yell — or was 
it only the echo? The water was muddy all 
around him, torn up by his struggles. The tur- 
bid ripples lapped his throat, rising to his chin. 
In wild terror, he realized that drowning now 
was only a matter of moments, and at that in- 
stant Alice ran out of the woods, still carrying 
his rifle. 

He saw her laugh at her first glimpse of his 
head and waving arms above the surface, then 
the laugh suddenly froze on her face. She 
dropped the gun, leaped into the boat, and sent 
it shooting toward him. 

The side rasped his shoulder, and he clutched 
it, as she gripped his arm and tried to raise him, 
supposing he was merely out of his depth and un- 
able to swim. He threw his head back, just able 
to clear his mouth. 

‘‘Mud! Quicksand!'' he ejaculated. 

He caught a mouthful of water and seemed to 
go suddenly down half a foot at once. Alice's 
pull was unable to lift him. The muddy water 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


75 

went over nis mouth, over his nose. It closed 
over his nose. It closed over his eyes, and he 
held his breath, still clutching uselessly on the 
boat above him. 

He held that breath till his lungs felt about to 
burst. Alice let go her grip on his shoulder. 
He could feel the water going over his head, roar- 
ing and dashing, he thought. Then something 
struck his head. The water seemed strangely to 
disappear from his face. Involuntarily he let go 
the air in his lungs ; he drew another breath with 
a gasp, and opened his eyes. 

A tin surface was around his face, enclosing 
air and not water. He vaguely recognized the 
big bucket they had carried in the canoe. It had 
been pushed down over his head, the contained 
air driving the water down before it. 

The fresh air cleared his head as he caught 
another gasp. It seemed a miracle to him, in- 
comprehensible, but he realized that he was safe 
— at any rate for some minutes. He could feel 
himself still sinking; it could be for only some 
minutes that he was respited. 

He tried to pull himself up by the boat, but it 
only tilted and gave, without producing any 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


76 

effect. Alice seemed to be holding the bucket 
over his head with one hand, while she was pat- 
ting his arm encouragingly with the other. 

She tapped on the tin as if for warning, and he 
felt it slowly withdrawn. He held his breath, 
and in a moment it was replaced, with changed 
air. It was time; he was choking again, for 
there were not many lungfuls of air in that 
bucket. 

Through the water he thought he heard a 
sound of voices. Alice took both his hands and 
put thdm on the bucket. He would have to hold 
it himself. He grasped it, and felt the swirl 
of the water as the boat started away. 

He felt deserted. An endless time seemed to 
pass. The air in the bucket was growing foul 
and suffocating again, when the water heaved 
and the boat’s keel scraped over his shoulder. 
His arms were gripped; there was a tug and 
strain that seemed likely to tear him in two ; and 
then he came up, trailing behind the boat. Alice 
and Carl had him by the arms, while Bob was 
putting all his strength into the oars. 

Without stopping to take him into the boat, 
they towed him straight across the bayou and 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


77 

pulled him out on the bank. The woods-rider 
crumbled down in a collapsed heap. He rubbed 
the water out of his eyes and looked at his res- 
cuers. 

‘‘Alice/’ he said rather thickly, “you surely 
saved my life. I — I ’ll never forget this.” 

“Oh, Joe!” said Alice, and burst into weeping. 

“Hold on, Allie ! It ’s all right now 1” ex- 
claimed Bob. 

“That bucket trick was the cleverest thing I 
ever saw,” said Carl. 

“How did you come to think of it?” asked Joe. 

“I d-don’t know,” Alice quavered, wiping her 
eyes. “It came to me like a flash. I ’d read of 
it somewhere — that you could shove a bucket 
down over the head of a drowning man, and it 
would hold the air — like a diving-bell, you know.” 

“You thought of it just in time,” said Joe. 
“I ’d taken my last breath, I thought. I ought to 
have had more sense than to wade into that place, 
but I never thought of any sort of quicksand. 
You didn’t see any alligators, did you, Alice?” 
he added hastily, as the girl showed some symp- 
toms of renewed tears. 

‘!N-no,” said Alice. “I thought I saw one, 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


78 

and I watched it a l-long time, but it was only 
a 1-log. I was away up the river ; that 's why 
I didn't hear you sooner. I ran as soon as I 
heard you. The boys were just coming back, 
too. This is an awful place. Let 's go away 
from it." 

The muddy bayou did look sinister and de- 
pressing to all of them since it had shown itself 
to be a death-trap; and they got aboard the boat 
and drifted down-stream again. Joe felt in no 
condition for exploring; he felt weak and used 
up, chilled to the bone and shivering, though the 
bayou water had not been cold. Within a 
quarter of a mile they landed on a high bit of 
shore, and Joe stretched himself in the full sun- 
shine, now scorching hot, to dry his clothes and 
and warm the chill out of his body. 

Bob and Carl took their guns and went explor- 
ing after eating dinner, but Joe stayed where he 
was, soaking in the sun, and Alice stayed to keep 
him company. As the hot sun baked him 
through he felt better, and the horror of his 
recent adventure began to wear off. It had left 
him with a tremendous admiration for Alice's 
pluck and ingenuity, however. This was the first 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


79 


occasion when he had been alone with her for any 
length of time; and he tried to amuse her with 
stories of the river country, of the great swamps, 
bears and alligators, outlaw negroes and half- 
wild houseboat-men who dwelt on the river. 
Adventures were no novelty to Alice, however, 
and she replied with tales of the great north 
woods, and their narrow escapes in establishing 
an apiary in the wild raspberry country. When 
she talked of the bees she always became enthusi- 
astic, and she explained something to Joe of mod- 
ern apiary methods, of which he was profoundly 
ignorant. 

‘^Do you know, Alice?’’ he said with sudden 
candor, 'T don’t believe we ’re ever going to locate 
Old Dick’s place.” 

She laughed. 

‘T ’ve been thinking the same myself,” she 
admitted. ‘T ’m sorry, too. However, I guess 
we can gather up some hives — gums, I mean — 
around the country, and if there are n’t enough to 
ship now, we can do better next spring. 

‘Then you’ll come back next spring!” Joe 
exclaimed. “Good ! I ’ll look after your bees 
for you through the winter, and next spring I 


8o 


THE WDODS-RIDER 


may be able to locate a lot more. And perhaps I 
can put some money into the thing myself, if Bur- 
nam's camp does n't go bust. And if it does I 'm 
going to get my money out of him anyway, if I 
have to seize the still. That is, if you-all would 
like me for a partner," he added, doubtfully. 

''Of course, we 'd like to have you, Joe," re- 
turned Alice frankly. "Why, the four of us 
could handle — oh, so many bees ! Maybe a thous- 
sand colonies. I know two men who run six hun- 
dred between them. There are places up North 
where they pay profits of ten or fifteen dollars a 
colony. Think of the money we 'd make ! But 
it would cost a lot to get a thousand hives of bees, 
unless we could get them cheaply here in the South 
and ship them." 

They talked the matter over for a long time. 
The two boys came back, rested, and went off 
again in a different direction. They had no luck. 
The sun grew low. This was not a suitable spot 
for camping, as there seemed to be no dry wood 
within reach, and they took to the boat, landing 
again at a more promising spot a mile lower. 
Here they unpacked the provisions, greatly 
reduced now, and set up the tent. 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


8i 

'^Our last camp. To-morrow we ’ll be out of 
grub and have to go home,” Bob remarked. 
‘T don’t care much. No offense to you, Joe, but 
I don’t think your country is as good as the North 
for a camping trip.” 

^This is n’t a camping trip ; this is a bee-hunt,” 
Joe defended. ^^This is n’t the time of the year 
for camping, of course. The swamps are wet, 
and there ’s nothing to shoot, and the snakes are 
out. You ought to come in January; then you 
could have the trip of your life, and all the shoot- 
ing you wanted.” 

''But the worst failure is the bees,” said Carl, 
poking the fire with a cypress pole. "I don’t 
believe there ever was any Old Dick. It ’s all a 
myth.” 

"Well, don’t poke so much,” said Alice, who 
was manipulating the frying-pan. "If there 
are n’t Old Dick’s bees, there are others. Joe is 
going to hunt up gums for us.” 

"I sure will,” said Joe. "But there was an Old 
Dick once, all right. His bees may have melted 
away, though. Maybe he never had so many as 
folks said. Lots of things might have happened 
to them. Bears may have eaten ’em up — ^they 


82 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


may have got burned, or stolen. Or they just 
naturally died. Bees do die sometimes, don’t 
they?” 

‘T expect some niggers stole the honey, and the 
bees starved to death,” Bob suggested shrewdly. 
^^Anyhow, I don’t think it would be worth while 
to look much more, even if we weren’t out of 
grub.” 

There was grub enough for that night and for 
breakfast, with a little for a bite on the way home. 
They sat about the camp for some time next 
morning, reluctant to start. It had not been a 
very pleasurable or successful trip, but it was 
rather hard to call it over, and start on the fifteen 
mile row up-stream to Magnolia Landing. 

Carl picked up Joe’s rifle and started up the 
bank, trying rather half-heartedly to get a shot at 
a gray squirrel in a gum-tree. He disappeared 
through the thicket, and a few minutes after- 
wards they heard him calling. He was standing 
at the foot of a dead black-gum, looking upward. 

'^Bees!” he exclaimed, as they approached. 

‘'Only a bee-tree!” said Alice in disappoint- 
ment, at the first glance. 

Twenty feet up, there was a dense cloud of fly- 


DISAPPOINTMENT 


83 

ing insects about a small hole in the trunk. They 
were coming and going in much excitement, and 
the loud roar of their wings sounded plainly on 
the ground. 

''But what 's stirring them up so?'’ said Bob, 
puzzled. "Can't be swarming at this time of 
year." 

"No, they're robbing — they're fighting!" 
cried Alice. "This bee-tree is being robbed out 
by some other wild bees — or — " 

Carl uttered a yell. 

"Old Dick's bees! Where are they coming 
from?" 

From the bee-tree they could see the insects 
coming and going in a direct line over the woods 
toward the north. 

"Follow them! Track them down!" Bob ex- 
claimed. 

They all started at a run along the line of the 
bees' flight. Once they had the direction, they 
had only to keep on, for bees fly in a proverbially 
straight line. They went down a slope, crossed 
a little creek in a belt of titi thickets, up another 
slope, and then Bob in the lead uttered a whoop 
of triumph. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


84 

There before them, between two great magno- 
lias, stood the wreck of a small board cabin. 
Windowless and doorless, it looked a long-de- 
serted ruin. A tumbling log outhouse stood 
near, and there were surviving indications of a 
fence. 

''Old Dick’s cabin, for sure!” exclaimed Carl. 
"And there ’s the bees 1” 

At one end of the cabin stood three "gums,” 
made of sections of a hollow log, about three 
feet long and standing on end. The top was 
covered with a piece of plank, and through the 
rotted entrance-hole at the bottom excited streams 
of bees were flying and entering. Two more 
gums showed no activity and were evidently 
dead; and several more lay overturned and 
empty. 

"But where’s the enormous gum-apiary?” 
cried Alice. 

The bees in the gums, wild and jet-black, were 
cross and inclined to attack. The party kept 
well away from them and searched all through 
the blackberry thickets and undergrowth, at 
first with full expectation, then with failing hopes, 


DISAPPOINTMENT 85 

and at last with disgust. There were no more 
bees than the three colonies they had first seen. 

^^So much for Old Dick’s hundreds of gums!” 
said Bob. ''Another legend busted!” 

Alice gazed at the disappointing result of their^ 
search, and then began to laugh. 

"Rather a joke, isn’t it?” she said. "After 
all our expectations !” 

"Afraid that ’s just what it is,” said Joe. 
"This is probably Old Dick’s shack, all right. 
These hollow-log gums are just what the Old 
nigger is said to have used. Probably some of 
them were stolen, some died, and likely he never 
did have many. Those niggers’ stories are apt 
to-be awfully exaggerated.” 

"Well,” said Bob, after they had looked for 
some time at the gums, "there ’s no use in stay- 
ing any longer, is there? Unless you want to 
carry these gums home in the boat.” 

Nobody expressed any desire to undertake 
this, and, after another look about the cabin, they 
tramped back to the river. 

"And now for home !” said Carl. Never mind ! 
When we came South we did n’t know anything 


86 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


about Old Dick, and we ’ve still got all the coun- 
try to look for bees in.” 

They packed the outfit and turned the boat up- 
stream. It was a long, hard pull against the cur- 
rent, under a hot sun, and it was well after noon 
when they arrived at Magnolia Landing. Leav- 
ing the camp kit to be brought over by wagon, 
they tramped up the road, meeting Uncle Louis 
on horseback within half a mile of home. 

‘'Hello! I was looking for you back,” he 
cried. “Did you find Old Dick’s bees ?” 

“Oh, yes, we found ’em !” returned Joe, sadly. 


CHAPTER V 


BURIED TREASURE 

J OE got back to Burnam’s camp to find gum 
running freely again. Morris, who had been 
riding the river orchard in his absence, reported 
that everything looked promising, and Joe found 
it so when he rode over the woods on the day 
after his return. The negroes were glad to have 
him back; they saluted him delightedly. Sam 
said that the gum might be dipped in two more 
hot days, and Joe began to feel much more con- 
fident of the camp’s future. 

But the next morning there was a different 
story. He was a little later than usual in arriv- 
ing at the woods, and when he turned into the 
pines he found his whole gang of chippers col- 
lected and waiting for him. 

'What’s the matter? Why aren’t you boys 
at work?” he exclaimed. 

"Capt’n, somebody ’s done emptied our cups,” 
said one of the negroes, solemnly. 

87 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


‘What! Stealing gum !” cried Joe. He had 
heard of thefts of raw gum from turpentine 
tracts before. The stuff is marketable, and can 
be sold at any still. 

‘Tf any of you have been robbing the cups, I ’ll 
put you where you ’ll never steal any more,” he 
threatened. 

“No, suh, capt’n! No, suh, Mr. Joe!” de- 
clared the man. “Ain’t none of dis gang 
would n’t steal gum. An’ de cups is gone, 
too.” 

“Somep’n queer ’bout dis yere, capt’n 1” chimed 
in another chipper. 

Joe’s eye lighted on Sam, standing rather sheep- 
ishly in the rear. 

“Sam, what ’s happened? What ’s the matter 
with this gang?” he called. 

“Spects dey ’s scared, Mr. Joe. Scared of 
spirits, I reckon.” 

“Yes, suh, capt ’n !” said another, gaining 
courage to speak out. “Some of our boys was 
down yere one night huntin’ ’possums, an’ dey 
seed mighty queer things — ^yessuh, powerful 
queer. Dere was queer lights movin’ round dis 
way, dat way, an’ people travelin’ ’bout. But, 


BURIED TREASURE 89 

capt’n, dem ware n’t no real lights, an’ dem 
ware n’t no real human men.” 

‘^Everybody knows dat ol’ Marshall place is 
full of ha’nts !” another chipper muttered. 

'What nonsense!” cried Joe. "Come, let’s 
see where the cups were robbed.” 

They did not have to go far. From one of the 
ifirst pines in the orchard the cup was missing. 
In its place, a red cord with a piece of black cloth 
and a severed chicken’s head hanging from it had 
been tied around the tree, 

"What foolishness is this?” exclaimed Joe 
angrily, tearing down the mysterious red de- 
coration. 

None of the men replied. They shuffled their 
feet and looked stealthily at one another. Even 
Sam looked furtive. No white man ever quite 
fathoms a negro’s superstition. What the red 
string meant the turpentine workers did not know 
themselves, but it stirred in them dim, barbaric 
ideas of voodoo and conjuring, and they were 
desperately afraid of it. 

"Some one’s been trying to scare you,” said 
Joe. "Ghosts don’t steal gum, do they? Spir- 
its ! Spirits of turpentine, I reckon 1 ” 


90 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


It was a rather feeble joke, but a little joke 
goes a long way with negroes, and they all 
laughed uproariously. They brightened up at 
once, and under the protection of the white man’s 
presence, they ventured into the woods. For 
some distance Joe found no more cups missing; 
but as he rode on he began to find more and more 
robbed trees, and soon he came to a tract where 
hardly a cup remained. There were no more red 
strings, however. 

The theft of the gum was not very important, 
but the loss of the galvanized cups was a much 
more serious matter. So many of Burnam’s 
cups had been crushed in the wreck of the storm 
that the supply of extra ones was low. They 
were expensive now, and, worse still, it would 
take a week or two to get a fresh shipment. 

He sent a man to camp with a note to the fore- 
man, requesting him to send down two hundred 
cups, and he shepherded the chippers back to 
their work. They went reluctantly and showed 
a disposition to keep together, and Joe had to 
follow them closely all day. A little before noon 
a wagon came with the cups, and Burnam came 
with it, in great indignation. 


BURIED TREASURE 


91 


''Won’t do to have this happen again,” he said. 
"These are about the last cups in the camp. Find 
any trace of who did it?” 

There seemed to be no trace. The two of 
them searched the woods for several hours, with- 
out finding how the cups had been taken. The 
smooth carpet of pine-needles showed no track 
of wheels or hoofs, and yet so many cups could 
hardly have been carried away by hand. 

It was only after Burnam had gone that Joe 
came upon a clue. He discovered a single wheel- 
mark in the damp earth near the creek swamp — 
apparently the track of a wheelbarrow. It 
seemed to have passed that way several times, 
and the track did not appear to lead toward that 
part of the woods where the cups had been taken, 
yet there could be hardly any doubt that the 
thieves had used the barrow for transporting the 
stolen gum. 

Within a hundred feet he lost the trail on the 
smooth pine litter. He searched the woods in 
widening circles, scrutinizing every spot of soft 
ground. He was lucky enough to pick up the 
trail again a hundred yards away; lost it, found 
it again, and within half an hour more he came 


92 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


upon the wheelbarrow itself, cunningly hidden 
under a dense gallberry-thicket. 

The implement was smeared with unmis- 
takable, telltale marks of gum and rosin. Joe 
was about to confiscate it, but, on second 
thoughts, he left it where it was, and went away 
immediately. Probably the thieves would at- 
tempt to use it again that night, and it would 
serve as a bait. 

He sent Sam back to camp to bring down some 
food, and tell the foreman that he would not be 
in that night. He had determined to lie in wait 
in the woods and solve the mystery. 

It was a mystery which thickened, for as he 
was riding away Snowball trod in something 
curiously sticky and Joe glancing down, saw that 
it was turpentine gum. Dismounting, he found 
fully two gallons of the stuff loosely covered 
with rubbish. It might have been spilled by 
accident, but it looked as if it had been poured 
there intentionally. 

Why anybody should have taken the risk of 
stealing the gum only to pour it out again Joe 
could not imagine. The negroes finished work 
and started up the road. Sam brought him a 


BURIED TREASURE 


93 


packet of meat and corn-bread and a bottle of 
cold coffee, and left him. Joe ate his supper, 
tethered Snowball where there was grass, and, 
as the woods darkened, he ambushed himself be- 
hind a screen of young pines near the hidden 
wheelbarrow, laid the little rifle across his knees, 
and waited. 

It was a hot night once more. Mosquitoes 
hummed viciously, and numbers of large bats 
circled overhead. A strange, hot smell rose 
from the river swamps close by, full of the odor 
of flowers, of bay-leaves, of rotting vegetation; 
it was so strong that his head swam. Fever was 
in that heavy air. 

It was dark and dead silent, but soon the moon 
rose and flooded the woods with light. Whip- 
poorwills began to call; great moths and beetles 
flitted and huffimed, and once he heard the screech 
of a wildcat far down by the river. It was wind- 
less and so hot and damp that the sweat stood on 
his face. It was a lucky thing, he thought, that 
his cousins had had no such weather on their 
recent camping trip. Unused to the climate, they 
would certainly have got a dose of malaria. 

Joe found it hard to keep awake. He had 


94 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


been in the saddle since early morning ; and as he 
crouched there with his eye on the thicket where 
the mysterious wheelbarrow lay he found him- 
self dozing. 

He shook himself awake, but toward two 
o’clock he gave up. If any one was going to steal 
gum that night he would have been at it before 
this; and Joe buried his face in his arms and 
fell soundly asleep. 

He awoke, feeling stiff and weary. The 
woods were growing gray with dawn. It was 
past four o’clock. Examining the thicket, he 
found the wheelbarrow undisturbed. His head 
and back ached, warning him that he would need 
a strong dose of quinine that day. He hankered 
after hot coffee, thought vaguely of riding to 
camp, but at last wandered slowly toward the 
entrance of the orchard to look for Sam with his 
breakfast. 

Tired and listless, he sat down in a wide, open 
glade. There was a chill in the dawn air, and he 
felt cold, empty, and depressed. He pondered 
the series of misfortunes that had come upon the 
turpentine-camp, of which this gum-stealing was 
the latest. ‘^Burnam ’s surely in hard luck!” he 


BURIED TREASURE 


95 

said to himself, digging aimlessly into the pine- 
needles at his feet. He found hard bits of rub- 
bish among them; he picked them up, crumbled 
them, and threw them away indifferently, until 
he noticed that they were bits of rosin, and he 
wondered how they had come there. 

Picking up a sharp stick, he drove it into the 
loose ground, and noticed that it struck some- 
thing hard only a foot below the surface. He 
scraped away the mixture of earth and pine- 
needles, and found that a hard cake of rosin was 
buried there — how large he could not tell, but 
it seemed to be as solid as a boulder. 

Joe was so accustomed to seeing lumps of rosin 
scattered everywhere about the camp that his 
finding the mass in that spot did not at first strike 
his preoccupied mind as anything remarkable. 
He continued to poke aimlessly into the ground, 
and only by degrees did he come to realize that 
this was an extremely large lump. 

‘T wonder how much of the stuff there is here 
he muttered. 

With a stronger stick he probed into the 
ground about two feet away. There he encount- 
ered the same hard substance, a little deeper 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


96 

down. Two more soundings at different points 
showed the same solid ^'bed-rock.’’ 

''Gracious! There’s yards and yards of it!” 
he exclaimed, amazed. 

He had ridden over this very spot several 
times without ever suspecting the presence of 
that peculiar substratum. He dug down to hard 
bottom in another place to make sure that the 
stuff was really rosin. It was rosin indeed, 
blackish and much mixed with bark and dirt, but 
real rosin, and he could not guess how it had come 
to be buried there. Then, as he looked about 
the open glade, he remembered the old distillery 
that his grandfather and his great-grandfather 
had operated in those woods. 

As a child Joe had heard it spoken of, but it 
had been demolished long before that, and he 
never had known the exact spot where it had 
stood. In those early days only the spirit of 
turpentine was considered of any value. The 
rosin was not worth the cost of shipping it out, 
and in nearly all the country stills it was run 
from the retort into a huge pit and allowed to 
harden there. 

An old distillery would thus sometimes ac- 


BURIED TREASURE 


97 


cumulate an enormous amount of waste rosin, 
and Joe remembered having heard of some of 
these old pits having been dug up with great 
profit. One rosin-reef in Clarke County had 
yielded, if he remembered rightly, nearly eight 
hundred barrels of good rosin, which sold for 
six dollars a barrel. And rosin was higher now. 

All this rushed through Joe's mind in a sudden 
flood, and with increasing excitement he began 
to search the glade for further evidence. Under 
the gallberry-bushes he discovered a few crum- 
bling bricks moldering in the soil; digging be- 
neath them, he found traces of charred wood. 
More digging revealed an old, rusted iron bar, 
more charred wood, and a few pieces of tin, 
mixed up with scattered lumps of rosin. There 
could be no doubt that this was the site of the 
old turpentine distillery. 

As the full force of his discovery grew upon 
him, Joe almost shouted with delight. Here was 
the way to recover what he stood likely to lose 
in Burnam's camp. He marveled that no one 
had remembered the old still before. It had been 
run for many years, and its accumulation of rosin 
might easily yield as much as the reef in Clarke 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


98 

County. At the present prices of rosin, this 
great bed might be worth several thousand 
dollars. 

With the old iron bar he began to probe the 
ground in every direction to ascertain exactly the 
size of the rosin pit. Wherever he struck the 
hard deposit he drove a little stake; thus he soon 
ascertained that the bed was more than twenty 
feet long and about half as wide. Its depth was 
the most important point, and he had no means 
of ascertaining this ; but he drilled deep with his 
iron bar without going through it. As a pit had 
usually been dug in the earth to receive the rosin, 
he thought it might be ten feet deep. At a low 
estimate, the ^^mine’’ should contain four or five 
hundred barrels, worth perhaps two thousand 
dollars. At any rate, it would bring back a great 
part of what Burnam owed him, if he failed to re- 
cover it otherwise. 

Then, all at once, the question came to him: 
Who was the real owner of this deposit? Bur- 
nam, it is true, owned the land; but the rosin had 
belonged to Joe’s grandfather and to his father. 
Burnam had known nothing of the deposit when 
he bought the land. Morally, Joe felt that there 


BURIED TREASURE 99 

was no doubt about his right to reclaim the stuflf 
which his family had inadvertently left behind. 
But the legal side of the matter was more 
dubious; the uncertainty fell like a wet blanket 
over his first enthusiasm. At last he rose, pulled 
out his stakes, hid the iron bar, and kicked pine- 
needles over the old bricks. He had not yet 
decided what he would do. Until he came to a 
decision he was going to keep the valuable secret 
to himself. 

He hunted up Snowball and rode thoughtfully 
down the road, to look for Sam. The excite- 
ment of his discovery had made him for a time 
forget to be hungry, but he was beginning once 
more to feel extremely empty, and he was glad 
when the negro boy hove in sight with a package 
of food and a tin bucket of coffee, which he re- 
heated quickly over a small fire. The rest of the 
gang came down a little later, uneasy at first 
about entering the woods, but, finding no more 
red strings or chickens^ heads, they presently 
scattered about their work. 

The rosin ‘^mine^’ weighed heavily on Joe^s 
mind all that day. The more he thought about 
it the more certain he felt of his moral right to 


100 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


the waste from his grandfather's old still, but 
how the tangled problem would work out in law 
he could not say. He shrank from the idea of 
consulting a lawyer; secretly he was afraid that 
the decision might be against him. Of one 
thing he felt sure: He would rather let the 
secret die with him than allow Burnam to mine 
that rosin, especially if the camp collapsed into 
bankruptcy. 

An instinct led him to keep away from the 
place of his discovery. The wheelbarrow re- 
mained untouched, and as he rode the woods that 
day he was continually on the lookout for any 
fresh clue to the gum-stealers. No gum had been 
taken that night. Whether this was due to his 
rather careless watch he could not say, but he 
felt that a guard should be kept the next night as 
well. He did not himself feel inclined for an- 
other night in the woods, and the negroes de- 
murred instantly to the proposal. Even Sam 
shrank from it, but at last he did get three of 
them to consent to stand guard, in consideration 
of a dollar apiece and plenty of coffee. 

He had grave doubts whether they would stay 
awake, but the next morning they swore that they 


BURIED TREASURE 


101 


had not closed an eye and had heard no dis- 
turbance. An examination showed no gum had 
been taken, but the wheelbarrow had vanished. 
Some one had visited the woods that night. 

However, Joe thought that the thieves had 
probably been frightened away, and the next 
night he left the woods alone, with some un- 
easiness. It turned out all right, however; no 
cups were found missing, and as the following 
night had the same result Joe’s fear began to 
wear off. 

The weather had remained hot, and the run of 
gum had been excellent. Within a few days 
there was enough for ‘"dipping,” or collecting the 
contents of the cups. Mule teams came down 
from the camp with the dip-buckets and barrels, 
which were set down at intervals through the 
woods, and in the afternoon the dipping gang 
came in, and began the heaviest, hardest work of 
the turpentine harvest. 

The wooden dip-buckets weighed thirty pounds 
even when empty, but the dipper moved at a trot 
from tree to tree, deftly scooping out the thick, 
whitish gum from the cups with a wooden paddle. 
When the bucket was full he poured it into the 


102 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


nearest barrel, and by night many of the barrels 
were nearly half full. 

Joe was greatly delighted with this result, but 
when the dippers came in the next morning they 
found that some one had forestalled them. Fifty 
or sixty cups were missing from the trees, all of 
them ones that had been nearly full. A pro- 
longed search failed to find any of them. Joe 
sent a hurry call to the camp for more cups. Mr. 
Burnam was not there, but the foreman managed 
to collect a few dozen, and Joe replaced as many 
of the missing ones as he could. 

He had feared greatly for the safety of the 
partly-filled dip-barrels standing about the 
orchard, but an examination showed them all 
untouched. Perhaps they had been too heavy to 
handle; but Joe felt that they would have to be 
guarded in the future until they were hauled back 
to the still. 

This mysterious lawlessness was intensely 
irritating and disturbing. It occurred to Joe 
that the thieves might possibly have come in a 
boat from the other side of the river, and he rode 
down to the shore to reconnoiter for tracks. 

A heavy growth of willow, titi, and sycamore 


BURIED TREASURE 


103 


made a dense belt along most of the waterside. 
Usually he could not see the river until he was 
within twenty feet of it, and he rode along, peer- 
ing through the thickets, scrutinizing the ground 
for tracks, till he came to a deep, narrow bayou 
that ran inland for about fifty feet. A few 
willows grew along its banks, and through them 
Joe spied the black houseboat that he had seen 
floating down the river several days before. 


CHAPTER VI 


DISASTER 

F or a minute or two he sat on his horse and 
scanned the black boat. It was certainly 
the boat he had seen before, and he wondered how 
she had been brought back against the stream. 
She must have hired a tow from the steamboat, 
and he wondered what had been the inducement. 
As before, no one was in sight. No smoke rose 
from the stovepipe that projected through the 
roof, and the door upon the little end deck was 
closed. 

‘‘Hello! Aboard there!'’ he shouted at last. 
There was a sound of stirring in the boat. 
The door of the cabin opened, and a man stepped 
out upon the stern deck, a ragged and disrep- 
utable object. He was dressed in a tattered 
cotton shirt and trousers, barefooted and bare- 
headed, with long, fair hair, straggling mustache 
and a yellowish, malarial complexion. He looked 

104 


DISASTER 105 

startled; he gave Joe a glance of mingled fright 
and suspicion, 

''Howdy Joe greeted him. "Camping here 

"Fur a leetle while, mebbe,’' drawled the sallow 
man, looking him carefully up and down. 
"You're Burnam's woods-rider, ain't you?" 

"One of them. Can I come on board?" 

The man hesitated, and spat into the bayou. 

"I reckon you can't," he said at last. "My 
brother 's in yander, mighty sick, and he 's just 
gone to sleep." 

"Too bad. What's the matter with him?" 

"Chills 'n' fever. He 'll git over it. Just done 
had it myself. Gum runnin' good?" he added 
listlessly. 

"Pretty fair. Some one 's been stealing some 
of it. Seen anybody round the woods at night?" 

"Naw!" The river-man looked sidelong at 
Joe, and bit off a chew from a plug of tobacco. 
"Soon 's Bud gits well enough to help me, we 
aims to float down to Choctaw Bluffs." 

"I saw you up here a week or so ago. How 
did you get back?" said Joe. 

"Naw, you did n't. Ain't never been by yere 
before," returned the man quickly. "We been 


io6 THE WOODS-RIDER 

up by Peach Tree, and we Te goin’ to Choctaw/' 

‘‘Going down to the River Island?" Joe asked 
casually. 

“No, sir! Too many rough charackters there. 
They says Blue Bob uses the River Island this 
spring." 

Joe had often heard of this same Blue Bob, 
notorious among the houseboat men, whose evil 
reputation had spread all along the river, from 
Montgomery to Mobile. Blue Bob, with a gang 
of disreputable associates, ran a large houseboat, 
combining a sort of small piracy with occasional 
selling of illicit whisky. He stole hogs and cattle 
along the river ; he had been concerned in several 
shooting alfrays, and had been several times 
arrested but had always been lucky enough to get 
off with nothing more than a fine. 

It struck Joe that it might have been Blue Bob 
who had robbed the turpentine orchard, for the 
River Island was not more than thirty miles 
down the river. They had been almost within 
sight of it, in fact, on the recent bee-hunt. But 
he hardly thought that the lazy, shiftless figure 
before him, evidently a prey to hookworms and 
malaria, had had anything to^do with the thefts. 


DISASTER 


107 

The stealing in the turpentine wckxIs had been en- 
ergetic and laborious, involving a good deal of 
hard work. All the same, he felt that the black 
houseboat would bear watching, until ‘'Bud'’ got 
over his chills and fevers. 

He offered to get the boatman some quinine, 
which was declined, and he rode away with a 
careless good-by. For half a mile up the shore 
he proceeded, finding no traces of any other boat, 
until he was checked by an impenetrable swamp, 
and he turned back into the pine woods again. 

The wagons had taken a load of gum-barrels 
up to the camp that day, where a charge was to 
be run in the still. But only a part had been 
taken; eight or ten partly full barrels still stood 
in the orchard, and Joe felt increasingly uneasy 
about them as the day went on. He determined 
to spend another night in the woods and guard 
them himself. 

He rode up to camp for supper, however, when 
the negroes ceased work and found the still 
just cooling from its recent charge. The upper 
orchard as well as the river tract had been dipped 
within the last few days. Negroes were still 
barreling up the hot rosin, and he counted nearly 


i 


108 THE WOODS-RIDER 

twenty barrels of turpentine on the plank plat- 
form beside the road, ready for hauling down to 
the steamboat. A great row of rosin barrels 
stood near the still, and Wilson told him that they 
were going to run another charge after supper. 

After a hasty meal Joe rode back in the twi- 
light to the river tract. Leaving Snowball tied 
near the road, he went quietly into the dim woods 
and stationed himself near enough to the house- 
boat to be sure of knowing if anybody left it or 
came to it. 

There was a dull smolder of embers on the 
shore of the bayou, where the houseboat’s oc- 
cupants had probably cooked their supper; but 
there was no light aboard nor any sound what- 
ever. Joe waited for more than an hour in si- 
lence; then, growing disgusted, he walked back 
into the pine woods a little way. 

He had gone only a few paces when he thought 
he saw a flicker of light among the trees ahead. 
It seemed to increase rapidly. Wondering if it 
could be a camp-fire or a blaze from some chip- 
per’s cigarette, he started to investigate it. The 
glow brightened to a glare, and he covered the last 
half of the distance at a run. 


DISASTER 


109 


As he broke out of the woods into an open 
space, a blast of heat struck him. One of the 
gum-barrels had been left there, and it was roar- 
ing and flaming like a gigantic torch, sending up 
volumes of pitchy smoke. 

Joe knew well that he could no more extinguish 
that blaze than he could put out a volcano. Only 
quantities of sand would do it, and there was no 
sand. He knew, too, that the barrel had caught 
fire by no accident. There was an incendiary in 
the woods; and he cocked his rifle and stared in 
every direction. Nothing stirred, though all the 
woods at hand were lighted up like day. 

Then in the distance he caught another om- 
inous flash of flame. Sick at heart, he rushed 
toward it. Another of the barrels was on fire, 
too far gone to be checked. There were six 
or eight more barrels, standing at intervals of a 
few hundred yards, and with a sense of im- 
pending disaster he ran for the next in the line. 

When he was still twenty yards away he saw 
the barrel flash up. In the sudden glare he 
thought he saw the retreating shape of a man. 
He shouted; then he fired two quick shots at the 
vanishing figure, but nothing answered either his 


lio 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


shot or his cry. Reaching the barrel he saw that 
a flaming splinter had been thrust deep into the 
gum. He jerked it out. The gujm was not yet 
fairly burning, and he beat out the fire with a 
pine branch. 

He realized that wholesale destruction was 
meant this time. He started toward the next 
barrel, and then stopped, perplexed and despair- 
ing. Help was what he needed. He wondered 
if they could see the glare of the burning bar- 
rels at the camp, and he looked in that direc- 
tion. 

To his dismay he saw that the sky above the 
far-away turpentine camp was red! Either the 
camp itself or the woods around it were on fire. 
Deeper-planned destruction than he had imagined 
must be under way, but he knew that it was at 
the camp that he would be needed most. Tear- 
ing through the woods to the spot where he had 
left his horse, he leaped into the saddle and went 
flying up the road. 

The red glare on the sky seemed to increase. 
While he was still far off he saw a towering 
flame and heard the yelling of the negroes. He 
left the woods for a short cut, reached the clear- 


DISASTER 


111 


ing, threw Snowball’s bridle across a branch, and 
rushed into the fiery glow of the camp. 

It seemed all aglare with fire and surging with 
men. The still itself was the centre of the con- 
flagration. The wooden platform around the re- 
tort had already been burned away, and the flames 
were shooting high from the turpentine-soaked 
timbers ; but that blaze was trifling compared to 
the roaring blast of fire that rose from the barrels 
of rosin. Three or four dozen of them were 
ablaze at once. The barrels had burst, and the 
molten rosin was running into a great lake of 
flame that spread and flowed like lava. A dozen 
negroes were throwing sand on it with shovels, 
but the flaming liquid splashed so dangerously 
that they had to give up the attempt. 

Joe heard Burnam’s voice roaring commands. 
A gang under his direction was pulling down 
several of the cabins nearest the burning still. 
Another gang was carrying supplies out of the 
commissary — high combustibles, tins of kerosene, 
boxes of cartridges, buckets of lard. The black, 
excited faces of the negroes rushing about in the 
red glare made the wildest scene that Joe had 
ever beheld. 


112 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


He rushed forward ready to lend a hand at 
anything, but the pool of burning rosin caught his 
eye first. It was overflowing into the little creek 
that crossed the camp-space; the rosin floated 
flaming on the water, so that a burning current 
was beginning to stream down toward the road- 
way. 

No one seemed to have noticed that orange riv- 
ulet of fire, but Joe remembered the barrels of 
turpentine spirit on the platform by the road. 
The little creek flowed right under that platform. 

Joe caught an excited negro by the collar as he 
rushed past. 

‘'Go tell Burnam to send some men down to 
the road right away to look after that spirits!'' 
he cried, and darted himself in the direction of 
the threatened barrels. 

The platform was eighty yards from the edge 
of the camp, and pines screened it from the glare 
of the fire. Three of the heavy posts that sup- 
ported it stood in the stream, which formed a sort 
of pool among them. To Joe's relief, every- 
thing seemed blindly dark. The flood of fire had 
not yet come down, but he had scarcely reached 
the spot when a lump of blazing, unmelted rosin 


DISASTER 


113 


came drifting down, and lodged right against one 
of the pine posts. He thrust it under water and 
extinguished it ; but within a minute several more 
lumps came flaming down, followed by a stream 
of burning fluid that hissed and smoked on the 
surface of the running water. 

Joe had picked up a shovel as he ran down, 
and now he cautiously flung sand on the water. 
Fire spattered fiercely in all directions. The dry 
brush along the road ignited, but he was able to 
beat it out. Running up to the top of the bank, 
he yelled at the top of his voice. 

‘^Here! This way! HelpT 

No one answered ; no one came. His voice was 
totally lost in that shouting and uproar. No 
doubt the scared negro had forgotten to give 
Burnam his message. He started to run for help 
himself, when a backward glance showed him a 
tongue of flame licking up one of the posts of 
the platform. 

He rushed back and smothered it. The liquid 
fire was coming down faster now, and threatened 
to spread over the whole pool under the platform. 
There was no time to seek for help. If he left 
the spot for a minute the spirit-barrels might 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


114 

flash up like gunpowder. He wet down the posts 
thoroughly, but he realized that he would have to 
stop th0 stream of flame that was pouring into the 
pool. 

With his shovel he set to work to throw a dam 
of sand and mud across the creek. Three times 
he had to stop and rush back to extinguish a fire 
on one of the posts. Drops of spattering fire 
fell on his hands; his clothes smoked, but at last 
he had the stream effectually blocked. Then he 
stopped, breathless, and beat the fire out of his 
coat and trousers. 

While he worked, the thought had continually 
hammered at his brain that this certainly meant 
the end of Burnam’s turpentine business, and of 
his own investment in it. The still was des- 
troyed. A copper retort is extremely expensive. 
Even if money were forthcoming to buy another, 
it would take time to get it, and to set it up, and 
the best of the season’s run of gum would be lost. 
It looked as if these barrels of turpentine would 
be about all the salvage from the wreck. 

Then he noticed with consternation that the 
water was brimming to the top of his dam, and 
that burning rosin was beginning to flow over 


DISASTER 


115 

it. He built it higher, but the water, carrying 
the liquid fire on its surface, rose steadily. Would 
that flaming stream never cease flowing? 

For a moment he felt at his wit’s end. Then 
it occurred to him that he should have provided 
for the water to drain out under the dam instead 
of over it. Thus it would carry no fire. He 
punched an outlet underneath, and had the satis- 
faction of seeing the level of the flaming creek 
slowly subside, and no more fire went over the 
dam. 

His satisfaction was increased by noticing that 
the flow of liquid rosin was diminishing. The 
great lake of flame must have burned out. A 
good deal of the burning stuff had got past his 
dam, however, and a glance back at the turpen- 
tine gave him a shock of fright. 

One of the barrels had caught fire. It was 
well smeared with raw gum on the outside, and 
was snapping and crackling fiercely, though the 
flame had not yet worked through to the contents. 
With a bound, Joe reached the platform. This 
barrel would have to be sacrificed to save the rest: 
The ground beyond the platform sloped away, 
and with a great heave he tilted the barrel up and 


ii6 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


sent it rolling oi¥. It landed with a crash, burst 
open, and flashed into a stream of flame ; but the 
burning spirit, thinning and scattering as it went, 
flowed down the slope away from the platform. 

And now no more burning rosin was coming 
down the creek. Isolated lumps still sputtered 
and flared, but the main flow had ceased. 

With a last glance around, Joe hurried back to 
the scene of the main fire. The still had burned 
out, and the copper retort and brick furnace stood 
up barely from the ashes. The danger from the 
fire had shifted to a group of cabins. One had 
been burned and another torn down, and the men 
were working hard to save the others. 

Shouting orders, pulling, hauling, wielding an 
ax, working harder than any of the men, Burnam 
was everywhere. He was hatless, his sleeves 
were rolled above his elbows, his face and arms 
were black with smoke, and his voice was hoarse 
with shouting. Joe almost ran against him, and 
the operator glared at him with bloodshot eyes. 

‘Where Ve you been?’' he shouted furiously 
into Joe’s face. ‘Why have n’t you been help- 
ing?” 

Joe was so utterly taken aback that he forgot 


DISASTER 


117 


the events of the last few minutes, and could only 
stammer that he had been ‘‘down in the river 
orchard.” 

“What were you doing there this time of night 
— and a night like this? Asleep, hey?” 

“The gum barrels were afire,” said Joe, more 
and more confused. “They ’re all burned by 
now, I reckon. Some one must have — ” 

It was no time to give Burnam bad news. 
Joe thought for an instant that the man meant to 
kill him. He shrunk back as Burnam lifted his 
clenched fist. 

“Burned? What were you doing, then? You 
dare to come in here and tell me that you let the 
gum burn up on your range? What d’ you think 
I pay you for? You never were no good, any- 
way! You get outer this camp! You’re fired! 
Go get your wages, and keep away from here, or 
I ’ll break every bone in your body !” 


CHAPTER VII 


STOLEN ROSIN 

T he next minute Burnam had wheeled and 
was rushing toward his men, arms raised, 
shouting vehemently. Joe stood for a moment as 
if paralyzed; he made a step to follow Burnam; 
a flood of wild words rushed into his mouth ; but 
then he stopped. This was no time for an al- 
tercation. But he would not lift another finger, 
he said to himself, to keep the whole camp from 
burning up; and, boiling with rage, he went 
straight to Wilson’s house, where he boarded. 
He almost regretted his efforts to save the tur- 
pentine. 

Nobody was in the house. Every one was out 
at the fire, which was mainly at the other side of 
the camp and at a safe distance. But the red 
light shone through all the windows, making a 
lamp unnecessary, and by the glare Joe went to 
his room and began to get out his possessions 


STOLEN ROSIN 


119 

and pack them in his trunk. His first idea was 
that he would leave the camp that very hour. 

But this would be hardly practicable. He 
would leave the first thing in the morning. The 
more he thought of Burnam's incredible outburst 
the more outraged he felt at the man's injustice; 
and the more furious he felt with himself at the 
stupid answers he had made. But it was all over 
now ; he was going to go. Burnam's camp was 
unquestionably going to go, too. Joe resolved 
to consult Uncle Louis, probably put his claim 
into the hands of a lawyer, and take what he could 
get as one of the creditors. 

The only thing that cheered him was the 
thought of the rosin ^'mine." There was going 
to be money in that, and he felt no scruple now at 
taking possession. Burnam owed him more than 
that, if, indeed, Burnam had any rights in the 
rosin at all. Joe began to convince himself that 
the rosin mine was legally his own property. 
Surely it was absurd to think otherwise. He had, 
at any rate, no immediate way of deciding the 
question, and he was willing to take a chance on 
it. 

How to get the stuff away was a troublesome 


120 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


problem. There might be tons of it. It would 
have to be taken away by the river, on some sort 
of large flatboat or barge. He would need some 
one to help him at it, but hesitated to take any one 
into his confidence, for he knew that he would 
have to get the rosin out secretly, under cover of 
darkness, before Burnam could get wind of it. 
There was a sort of unpleasant flavor of stealing 
about the affair, but he tried to ignore that aspect 
of the case. 

He thought of his cousins. Bob and Carl 
would probably be willing to help him. In fact, 
when he came to think of it, their rights in the 
rosin might be as good as his own. But he did 
not want to involve them in this possibly lawless 
affair. They had no feud with Burnam. At 
the same time, if he got the profits he hoped from 
the rosin, he was firmly resolved to put the money 
into the bee business of the young Canadians and 
become an apiarist himself. 

He remembered Snowball, still hitched to a 
tree, and he slipped out to put the horse in the 
stable and unsaddle him. Snowball did not be- 
long to Joe. It was Burnam's horse, but Joe had 
ridden him for almost two years and had grown 


STOLEN ROSIN 


121 


SO fond of the horse that it was hard to think of 
parting from him. 

The fire was under control now, and the red 
glow of the flame was dying down. Joe went 
back to his room and finished his packing. An 
hour later Morris, who shared the room with him, 
came in, black to the eyes, his clothes burned full 
of holes, and was surprised to find Joe lying on the 
bed, fully dressed and awake. 

‘Why, what ’s the matter he exclaimed. 
‘’Where have you been? Not hurt, are you? 
Burnam was asking for you.’’ 

“He found me, all right,” said Joe bitterly. 
“Is the camp burned out? Who set it on 
fire?” 

“Why, nobody!” said the other woods-rider. 
“What made you think of such a thing? It was 
an accident — carelessness, rather. The nigger 
that tends the pump went off and left it while the 
still was working. The engine went wrong and 
stopped running water into the retort. It got 
hot, and the top of the still blew off. The red- 
hot rosin flew like rain, and the whole place was 
afire in two seconds. Where were you all the 
time?” 


122 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


Joe briefly narrated the adventures of the 
evening, and his discharge. 

‘'Shucks ! that ’s nothing said Morris. “The 
old man ’s done that same sort of thing before. 
He was half crazy to-night ; he did n't know what 
he was saying. You 'll find that he 'll be all right 
in the morning, and you can fix it up with him." 

“What's the use," said Joe. “This camp will 
never run again. Burnam has n't got the money 
for a whole new stilling outfit and fresh cups, 
and then to stand idle for weeks while it 's put 
in shape. No, he 'll close down inside of a week, 
I 'll bet." 

“Maybe you 're right," said Morris soberly. 
“I reckon I 'd better be studying about a new job 
for myself. What do you reckon you ^11 do? 
There 's plenty of other camps, you know." 

“Yes," Joe evaded, “but I think I 'll go down 
and stop with my uncle for a little while. I 've 
got money in this concern, you know, and I want 
to see what the chances are for getting any of it 
out." 

For some time the two young men discussed 
the different turpentine-camps of the district, the 


STOLEN ROSIN 


123 

chances of employment, and the tendency of the 
turpentine market. 

‘Well, I ’m going to bed,’' Morris announced 
at last. “I ’m dog-tired. I ’ll see you iti the 
morning before you leave. But I think you ’d 
better see Burnam again before you do anything.” 

He turned in, and was asleep in a few seconds ; 
but Joe felt that he would not be able to close an 
eye, and did not even undress. The glow of the 
fire had gone; looking out, he could see the beds 
of red embers, already fading. The camp had 
quieted. A brilliant moon shone through the 
window ; the smell of burned rosin and pine came 
strong from outdoors, and a mocking-bird began 
to sing in the moonlight just behind the house. 

The whole camp was dead asleep after its ex- 
citing evening, but there was no rest in Joe’s 
heart. He was bitter at the thought of his lost 
inheritance, bitter at the way Burnam had re- 
warded his exertions. He had worked like a 
nigger, he told himself, only to be robbed at the 
end of it all. He hoped, indeed, to recover some of 
his loss from the rosin mine, but even this had 
a bitterness of its own. He had persuaded him- 


124 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


self that he was acting rightly, but he could not 
suppress his dislike of anything underhand. 

He was very tired, and at last he did sleep, not 
to awake until dawn. Morris still slept soundly; 
and without waking him Joe tiptoed downstairs. 
Nobody was yet up in the house, and, going to 
the kitchen he got a hasty cold breakfast for 
himself, and made up a large package of what 
food he could find — ^corn-bread, cooked ham, cold 
biscuits, and several raw eggs. He wanted pro- 
visions for one full day at least, and his board 
was paid for several days in advance. Later he 
could send word to have his trunk forwarded to 
him, and at some later day also he might draw 
his week’s wages. He had a little money on him 
— all he needed for the present. 

The black ruins of the fire looked more dismal 
in the dawn as he went out. He hurried to the 
stable and gave Snowball a half-dozen ears of 
corn, probably the last feed from his hands. His 
rifle was still in its sheath on the saddle, and he 
secured it, knowing that there was an unopened 
box of cartridges in his pocket. The horse 
neighed softly and nuzzled Joe’s shoulder. 


STOLEN ROSIN 


125 

^'Good-by, Snowball, old boy!’’ Joe whispered, 
and hurried out. 

He ran almost upon Burnam, and started back, 
but too late to avoid the encounter. The tur- 
pentine operator was gazing despondently at the 
ruins of the still. His face was streaked with 
soot yet, as if he had imperfectly washed him- 
self, and his face looked fatigued and worried and 
almost old. Joe expected another harsh outburst, 
but Burnam looked at him casually and nodded 
quite in his usual manner. 

^'Morning, Marshall!’’ he said. “You’re out 
early. Is there any hurry about dipping down 
in your orchard ?” 

“N-no. I don’t think so,” Joe stammered, quite 
overcome with astonishment. 

“Well, you might ride over and look around, but 
I reckon I won’t send the men over there to-day. 
We ’ll need ’em here to clear up. Some one told 
me — maybe it was you — about some barrels of 
gum catching fire. Did it burn much?” 

“Six or eight barrels, probably,” Joe replied, re- 
covering himself. 

“That ’s too bad. But I don’t know whether 


126 


THE WOOHS-RIDER 


we ’ll be turpentining the river orchard any more. 
I Ve got to see about getting a new still first, and 
the furnace ’ll have to be torn down and rebuilt, 
I guess. Come back and tell me how things 
look.” 

Joe muttered something inaudibly and turned 
away. He had no intention of ever coming back. 
But he was utterly amazed at Burnam’s manner. 
Could it be that, as Morris said, the man had been 
so excited that he had not realized what he had 
been saying last night, and had now entirely for- 
gotten it. Such stories had been told of Burnam 
before. It did not greatly matter, however; it 
was not so much words as facts that weighed upon 
Joe’s mind. He felt sure that Burnam would get 
no new still. The camp would go under. In- 
deed, Burnam had almost admitted as much in 
saying that they would do no more with the river 
orchard — the best section of his whole tract. 

As Joe walked slowly down the river road he 
reflected that it would greatly simplify matters 
for him if work on that river tract were given 
up. In fact, he would hardly have been able to 
dig into his rosin mine with the woods full of 
negroes. 


STOLEN ROSIN 


127 


As he went on the morning came up gloriously, 
windless and fresh. The damp clay-banks by 
the roadside glowed with crimson and vermilion : 
the scrub-oaks and pines beside it were dripping 
with dew. All the earth and its vegetation were 
drenched, and to avoid a wetting Joe sat down on 
a log by the roadside to wait till the dew in the 
woods had somewhat dried. Besides, he needed 
to collect his thoughts, to organize his plans. 

He had sat there almost an hour, absorbed in 
schemes and speculations, when he observed a 
figure coming down the road. It was an ex- 
tremely ragged negro, whistling loudly and carry- 
ing on his head a bundle wrapped in colored 
cloth. Joe recognized him with a mixture of an- 
noyance and amusement. 

''Sam!’’ he called. "What in the world are 
you doing here?” 

The negro, grinning broadly and sheepishly, 
approached and put down his bundle. 

"Dunno, Mr. Joe,” he said. "I seen you come 
outer de camp ’fore day, an’ I jes’ follered arter 
you, to see what you was fixin’ to do.” 

"I ’ve left Burnam’s, Sam,” said the former 
woods-rider. 


128 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


^^Now, I jes’ figgered dat what you ^bout to 
do,” said the negro boy, earnestly. ‘‘So ’m I, too. 
All de hands is fixin’ to go. Dey says dere won^t 
be no more wages paid at dis camp, now de still ’s 
done burnt.” 

“I ’m afraid you Ve got it about right,” said 
Joe. “But you ’ll be all right. You ’re a good 
turpentine man now, and fellows like you can 
get a job anywhere. There ’s a big camp across 
the river where I hear they want men. And 
here,” he added, taking out two silver dollars, 
“I ’m a little short myself, but this ’ll help you to 
get there.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Joe. Much obleeged!” said 
Sam, making no move to take the money. “But 
I ’d lots ruther go ’long with you, wherever you 
fixin’ to go. Mebbe you ’ll be woods-ridin’ at 
some other camp, an’ I kin git a job dere, too. 
But I don’t want no money, nohow. No-suh, 
Mr. Joe! Ef you let me stay with you, I don’t 
want no wages, an’ mebbe I kin help you some.” 

“I ’m going to live a wild life in the woods, 
Sam,” said Joe, gravely. 

“Glory!” Sam shouted. “Dat ’s de life for 
me! Now you jes’ ’bliged to take me with you. 


STOLEN ROSIN 


129 


Mr. Joe ! I kin snare rabbits, an’ cotch birds in 
traps, an’ I kin cotch fish where no one else can’t 
cotch none. I knows how to make a canoe, an’ 
I kin make a fire without no matches. I kin 
•cook, too. Whoop-ee! You jes’ wait till you 
tastes some of my cookin’. I tells you we ’ll live 
high. Yes-suh, Mr. Joe!” 

Joe laughed, a little touched too at the boy’s 
loyalty. Then it came upon him that here was 
just the helper he needed for his work with the 
rosin. Sam was as strong as a young mule, and 
absolutely faithful. For a moment he hesitated 
about getting Sam mixed up in this surreptitious 
business, but he quieted his conscience by telling 
himself that he would carry all the responsibility, 
and if the venture succeeded he would give 
the boy good wages. 

‘‘Maybe I can use you, Sam,” he said. “But 
it ’ll be dangerous work, in the dark and on the 
quiet.” 

“Well, I ain’t never stole no hawgs nor chick- 
ens,” said Sam, evidently bracing himself for 
lawlessness, “but I — ” 

“No, I ’m not going to steal anything,” Joe 
interrupted. “But we ’ll have to live in the woods 


130 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


for a while and work at night — work hard, too — * 
and you ’ll have to keep your mouth tight shut 
about it If we pull it off I ’ll give you big wages 
— three times what you’d make turpentining.” 

^‘Golly, Mr. Joe! You ain’t fixin’ to make 
moonshine whisky?” cried Sam, alarmed at last. 

‘'Nothing like it,” said Joe, laughing. "Come 
along with me and I ’ll show you what it is.” 

He led the way into the woods, past the emp- 
tied gum-cups, slowly refilling now, past the 
charred remains of the burned barrels, until he 
reached the open spot where he had discovered 
the rosin-bed. He glanced about with an instinct 
of caution, lest anybody should be within sight; 
then, with the iron bar he had used before, Joe 
raked away the pine-needles and uncovered the 
surface of the valuable deposit. As he worked 
he explained the origin of the mine to Sam, and 
unfolded his plans regarding it. 

"Why, sure, I ’ve often heard of de old Mar- 
shall still,” cried Sam, excited and highly elated. 
"But I never knowed where it was. Why, dere 
must be a reg’lar fortune in yander. I heered 
of a place like dis here, where dey got ten thou- 
sand dollars of rosin outer it.” 


STOLEN ROSIN 


131 


'T reckon that ’s a fish-story/’ said Joe. 'Tf 
we do as well with this one I 'll give you a thou- 
sand dollars. But the trouble is to get it out and 
get away with it. This is Burnam’s land, you 
know. He 'd order us off if he caught us at it, 
I 'm afraid. We 'll need tools to dig with, and 
we 'll have to have some sort of big boat, so that 
we can move it away as fast as we dig it out." 

^'Dat 's shorely so," said Sam, thoughtfully. 

^^Goin' to be a mighty big job for jes' you an' me 
to git all out these thousand barrels of rosin. 
Yes-suh, Mr. Joe. But we kin do it. I knows a 
boy back at de camp what 's got a good spade he 'll 
sell for four bits. An' dere 's an old flatboat up 
de river bank a ways. I dunno whether it 's any 
'count now." 

Joe sent Sam back to the camp to buy the spade 
and another if he could find one, and also to get 
all the provisions he could. Meanwhile he him- 
self went up through the woods to the river to 
look at the old flatboat, which he dimly remem- 
bered having seen some time ago. It was not 
more than half a mile away, and lay on the shore 
capsized, high and dry. It had been abandoned 
as useless, and was old, cracked, and leaky, but 


132 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


it looked as if it might be calked up. Rosin was 
not a cargo to be harmed by wetting. But the 
boat would hardly carry the whole contents of the 
bed, and when it was once floated down the river 
he did not know how he would ever get it back 
again. 

However, it was not worth while worrying 
about the second load till they got out the first and 
he walked back, to wait impatiently till Sam re- 
turned with the spade. Sam had made all pos- 
sible speed; he was out of breath with hurrying; 
but he had been able to obtain only one spade, 
and all the provisions he could secure were a 
large lump of corn-pone and about a dozen 
baked sweet-potatoes. 

But with Joe’s package of food this would do 
temporarily. He was feverishly anxious to 
ascertain the real dimensions of the rosin-bed, 
and he set Sam to open a trench across one end 
of the deposit, cutting clear to its bottom. Dig- 
ging was easy in that sandy soil, and in a few 
minutes Sam had laid bare the end of the deposit 
and spaded the earth away, sinking a hole deep 
enough to ascertain the thickness of the rosin 
reef. It was fully four feet thick at that point. 


STOLEN ROSIN 


133 

and seemed to be ten or fifteen feet wide. The 
rosin was mixed with pine-needles, bark and sand, 
having never been strained; and it occurred to 
Joe, as a further difficulty, that he would have 
to remelt and strain it all, if he was to get the full 
market price. But he did not trouble himself 
about that, in the triumph of the moment. Sam 
was wildly enthusiastic, for his experience at the 
camp made him fully appreciate the value of the 
discovery. 

^^Done told you dere was ten thousand dollars’ 
worth!” he exclaimed exultantly. ^Whoop-ee! 
Reckon I ’s goin’ git my thousand dollars, Mr. 
Joe!” 

'T reckon you won’t,” returned Joe, who was 
nevertheless almost as excited as the negro. 
‘"There ’s nothing like that much. But come 
round to the other end, Sam, and let ’s see how 
far it goes that way.” 

Sam spaded furiously through the deep pine- 
needles at the other end. At the depth of a foot 
or so he struck wood. It was a short piece of 
pine log. He threw it out, then came upon an- 
other log, but found no trace of rosin beyond a 
few loose lumps. Under the logs was a deep 


134 the WOODS-RIDER 

layer of brushwood and pine boughs, still quite 
fresh. 

''Dis hole 's been dug out already, an’ filled up 
again!” exclaimed Sam, rolling horrified eyes 
upon his companion. 

Joe seized the spade and tore out the rubbish. 
But Sam was right. A great pit had very re- 
cently been dug there. The diggers had then 
filled it in with brush, and, after placing small 
logs to make it firm, had replaced earth and raked 
the surface of pine-needles back as before. In 
probing with his iron on the first day Joe must 
have struck this solid wood in many places, im- 
agining it to be the rosin-bed. 

^‘Somebody’s done robbed us!” moaned Sam. 
“Hoi’ on ! Lemme try in another place.” 

He rapidly excavated another trench in a dif- 
ferent direction. This was also a disappoint- 
ment. Not a lump of rosin was there, nothing 
but the same cunning filler of logs and boughs. 

“Try here. No, give me the spade !” exclaimed 
Joe, wild with anxiety. 

At the end of half an hour the glade looked 
as if it had been blown up. They had dug it 
over from end to end, and the bitter truth was 


STOLEN ROSIN 


135 


plain to them. Somebody had already worked 
the mine. Only one end of the big deposit was 
left, which happened to be the spot where Joe 
dug into the ground on the day he made the dis- 
covery. All the rest of the rosin-pit had been 
emptied, and carefully refilled. From the size of 
the cavity it was apparent that hundreds of bar- 
rels had been taken out. Two dozen barrels at 
most would hold what was left. 

''Oh, my lanM” Sam mourned. "Ain't dat 
wickedness ? Shore is ! All de same, Mr. Joe," 
he added, brightening a little, "dere 's some left. 
Mebbe a hundred dollars worth." 

A hundred and a thousand dollars were both 
fabulous sums to Sam, but Joe saw it differently. 
In despair he cast about to think who could possi- 
bly have perpetrated the theft so quietly. It had 
been done very recently. Several persons must 
have been at work to carry off that enormous 
quantity, and they must have had some means of 
transport handy, a boat or — 

The memory of the black houseboat flashed 
into his mind. 

"I know where it 's gone, Sam !" he cried. 
"What a fool I was not to think of it before. It 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


136 

was n't gum they were after. It was this rosin. 
Pick up that iron bar and come along with me." 

Joe snatched up his rifle, assured himself that 
the magazine was full, and started toward the 
river, with Sam at his heels. He suddenly felt 
an absolute certainty that the houseboat men had 
done the stealing; they had been responsible for 
all the late disturbances in the woods; they had 
been covering up their operations in this way. 
No doubt there were more than two men in that 
black boat, and the story of the sick brother was 
undoubtedly false. 

In his wrath Joe scarcely stopped to reflect 
that he had only one weapon, against possibly 
three or four in the hands of lawless men. He 
had an idea of taking the enemy totally by sur- 
prise. They ran across the pine woods, went 
more cautiously through the swamp belt, and 
came at last in sight of the bayou where the house- 
boat had been moored. But the boat was gone. 
The bayou was empty. 

Joe stopped with an exclamation of rage and 
despair. But Sam, after poking about the re- 
mains of the camp-fire left ashore, spoke with an 
air of determination. 


STOLEN ROSIN 


137 

^‘Dey ain’t been gone long, Mr. Joe. Dese 
ashes was made last night, anyway. We kin 
cotch ’em yet. Dey ’s shore gone down de ribber. 
Dey can’t go up noways, an’ dem houseboats 
travels powerful slow. Dere ’s a canoe down at 
dis landin’. We kin run ’em down, ef you say 
so.” 

''Good!” Joe exclaimed. "We’ll do it. Run 
back into the woods and get the grub. I ’ll go 
straight to the landing.” 

It was not steamboat day, and nobody was 
about the landing when he got there after fifteen 
minutes of tearing through tangled woods. He 
found the canoe, a home-made, ownerless craft 
that had been public property for years, and un- 
tied it. Ten minutes later Sam appeared with 
the packages of food, and they went skimming 
down the river. 

There were several paddles in the boat and a 
strong current running, and they made good 
speed. The wooded shores rolled past. There 
was no chance of overtaking the houseboat for 
miles or hours, however, and as Joe paddled the 
manifold risks of the chase began to present them- 
selves sharply. There would be trouble when he 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


^138 

did overtake the enemy; there might be shots 
fired. Sam was courageous and loyal, but he had 
no weapon but his iron bar. More force was 
needed for the pursuit, and Joe began to think of 
his cousins at the plantation. Before he reached 
Magnolia Landing his mind was made up. 

^We ’ll stop here at Magnolia, Sam,” he said, 
steering in. ^‘You wait for me. I won’t be 
long.” 

Nobody was about Magnolia any more than 
at Marshall’s, and Joe hurried up the road to- 
ward his uncle’s place. Partly running, partly 
walking, he covered the distance in half an hour, 
and, entering the gate, he reconnoitered cau- 
tiously. He was not anxious to be seen. He did 
not want to have to make any explanations just 
then; but by great luck he espied Bob Harman 
lounging on the front veranda with a book. It 
was the very person he wished to see, and Joe 
managed to attract his attention and signaled to 
him to come down to the gate, where he waited 
behind a big chinaberry-tree. 

Bob came out, astonished and expectant, full 
of greetings which his cousin cut short. In a 


STOLEN ROSIN 


139 

few seconds Joe informed him of the essential 
features of the situation. 

’m going after them/’ he said. ‘T ’m go- 
ing to run them down and find out what they Ve 
done with that stuff — get it back too. If you 
feel like it, get your rifle and come along.” 

*^You bet I will!” exclaimed Bob enthusiastic- 
ally. ''And how about Carl?” 

Joe hesitated. "This may be a serious af- 
fair,” he said, "and I reckon one of you-all is 
enough to get into it. Don’t say anything to 
anybody. Pick up all the grub you can lay your 
hands on. We may be out a couple of days, but 
I don’t think so. If Aunt Katie asks about it, 
tell her I ’ve called you to go hunting in a hurry, 
and I fll see her when we get back. Be quick, 
now.” 

Bob was quick. In fifteen minutes he was 
back, with a big newspaper parcel of provisions, 
his rifle under his arm, and his pockets heavy 
with cartridges. The two boys hurried down the 
road, caught a fortunate lift from a farmer’s 
mule wagon, and arrived at the landing, where 
Sam grinned joyfully at this reinforcement. He 


140 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


had met the Harmans when they visited the 
turpentine camp, and he was prepared to extend 
his allegiance to them also, as members of the 
Marshall family. 

''Howdy, Mr. Bob he exclaimed. "We goin’ 
cotch dem thieves now, shore ^nough.’’ 

"Not if we don’t hurry!” said Joe nervously; 
and they all got aboard and paddled out into the 
current. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE RIVER ISLAND 

T alking over his shoulder as he paddled, 
Joe explained the events of the past days 
more fully to his cousin, and described his dis- 
covery of the rosin mine. 

'Tf we win out, of course we ’ll share it,” he 
added. '^As a matter of fact, I expect you 
have an equal right in it with me. That was the 
old family distillery, you know.” 

“Not a bit of it,” Bob returned. “You found 
the thing, and you certainly deserve all that 
comes out of it. I would n’t take a cent. But, 
as a matter of fact, I doubt if either of us has any 
right in it. Burnam bought the place. He gets 
whatever is in the ground, whether it ’s a coal 
mine or a rosin mine.” 

“I don’t know about that !” returned Joe, with 
irritation. “Anyway, I’ll hold that rosin as 
security for what he owes me.” 


142 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


‘'Dat ’s right Sam approved. ‘'An’ we ’re 
goin’ cotch ’em. Dey ’ve got a long start, but 
we ’ll cotch em, an’ when we do cotch ’em, why, 
dey ’ve got all dat rosin dug up for us. Won’t 
be nothing for us to do but tote it away.” 

“Pretty heavy toting,” said Bob. “That boat 
must have carried several loads, to clean out the 
big hole you speak of.” 

“Yes, I expect she loaded up at night and 
floated down the river to some spot where they ’ve 
hidden the stuff, and then got a tow back with the 
steamboat. But Sam ’s right. Those pirates 
really have done the heaviest part of the work. 
And we ought to be able to locate where they ’ve 
gone. That black houseboat ’s too big a thing to 
hide.” 

Bob was used to paddling on Canadian rivers ; 
Sam was a good canoeman, and with a strong 
current running they traveled fast. They went 
past the places they had lately visited on the hunt 
for Old Dick’s bees. On each shore rose the 
dense, gloolmy woods, broken at intervals by a 
bayou or creek mouth. Two or three times they 
paused to look into one of these openings where 
the houseboat might lie hidden, but there was 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


143 

never any trace of it ; and Joe did not really expect 
to find the river pirates hidden so near. 

The river twisted like a serpent, and as they 
went round every bend they scanned the broad 
stream ahead for anything afloat. Nothing ap- 
peared, nor anything human on the shores, 
though they kept a close lookout in hopes of see- 
ing somebody who might give them news of the 
houseboat. It grew near noon, and Joe was des- 
perately hungry, having had nothing but a bite 
of cold food in the early dawn, back at the camp. 
Sam was hungry too, and they went ashore to 
rest and eat. 

They went on again after a very brief delay, 
and for nearly another hour they paddled with 
the current. Then by good luck they espied a 
man fishing from a boat close to the shore, a 
swamp farmer who lived a mile back from the 
river. They paddled in and hailed him. 

^'You did n't see anything of a black houseboat 
going down the river lately?" asked Joe. 

''Shore did. I seen that black boat goin' down 
'bout day this mornin' — Blue Bob's houseboat." 
drawled the fisherman. 

"Blue Bob!" exclaimed Joe, startled. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


144 

''Yes, sir. I reckon I orter know his boat — 
dog bite him ! I ’ve seen him goin’ down the 
river an' gettin' hauled back by the steamboat 
right smart of times this spring. I dunno what 
he 's up to. He stole three of my hawgs last 
month. Are you-all huntin' him ? Has he stole 
anything ofyourn?" 

"He certainly has. Do you know if he had a 
light-haired, yellow-faced man along with him?" 

"I reckon he did. There 's a man like that in 
the gang, an' some says he 's kin to Bob. Some 
says he 's wusser 'n Bob himself. There 's an- 
other man in the gang anyways; sometimes the 
gang 's more, sometimes less. They 're a right- 
down des'prit lot. You boys better not fool with 
'em none." 

"Where do you suppose they were making 
for ?" Joe asked. 

"I dunno. They lays up in all the bayous. 
Folks says Blue Bob mainly hangs out around 
the River Island, though." 

Joe asked no more questions, but bade the man 
farewell, and turned the canoe slowly into the 
stream again. Blue Bob, the notorious river 
pirate ! That put a different complexion on the 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


H5 

whole affair, and he no longer wondered at the 
theft of the rosin since that energetic and reckless 
gang had been at work. Glancing back at Sam, 
he saw that the negro boy looked considerably 
perturbed. 

'What you goin’ to do now, Mr. Joe?” Sam 
inquired uneasily, holding his paddle suspended. 

"Why, go ahead,” Joe responded, with some- 
what more confidence than he felt. 

"I don’t want to fool with no Blue Bob,” Sam 
protested. "He ’s a shore ’nough bad man, an’ 
he ’s alius got a mighty tough gang with him. 
Dey Ve all got guns, an’ dey ’ll shore use ’em. 
What ’ll we do s’posin’ we cotch ’em ? Reckon 
we goin’ be like de man what cotched a rattle- 
snake by de tail!” 

"What do you say, Bob?” Joe demanded. 
"Are you afraid of your namesake? No use 
talking, he’s a rough customer, just as they 
say.” 

"No, I ’m not afraid of any Bob,” said Harman. 
"Anyway, we don’t have to fight them, do we? 
What we want to do is to scout around, and find 
where they ’ve hidden their plunder. Then we 
might go and get a regular posse to help us. But 


146 THE WOODS-RIDER 

we surely are n’t going to turn back now, are 
we?” 

''Of course not,” said Joe. "Sam, if you ’re 
scared we ’ll put you ashore, and you can walk 
home.” 

"No-suh, I reckon I ’m ’bleeged to go on now,” 
said Sam with resignation. "Only I ain’t got no 
gun, an’ when white folks gits a-shootin’ it ’s 
alius de nigger what gits shot.” 

"There won’t be any shooting, Sam. We 
won’t let them see us at all. Paddle ahead now, 
boys, and we ’ll all make our fortunes.” 

In spite of his outward determination, how- 
ever, Joe was frightened himself. He knew 
better than his cousin what a dangerous exploit 
it would be to endeavor to track the river pirate 
down to his lair in that maze of swamp and bayou 
that was called the River Island. He sym- 
pathized with Sam. If he had been alone he 
might have given up the attempt, but he was 
ashamed to show fear before a negro, ashamed 
to propose retreat after his cousin’s confident 
speech. 

"But we never kin cotch up with ’em ’fore 
night,” said Sam. "If dey started down ’fore 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


147 

day, dey ’ll shore make de River Island ’fore we 
does.” 

Joe perceived that this was probably true, and 
that if the houseboat once got into the labyrinth 
of the River Island it would be as hard to find as 
a rabbit in a blackberry-thicket. But they 
seemed to be in for it now, and there was no 
turning back. 

The sun blazed down fiercely on the river, and 
sweat poured off the white faces and the black one 
as the boys* drove the canoe down the current. 
But it was not till after two o’clock that, as they 
rounded a bend, the river seemed to split into two 
broad streams before them. Between the two 
channels lay a dense, unwholesome-looking 
swamp, a tangle of titi-shrubs and dead cypresses 
and vines and willows, all draped with gray 
curtains of Spanish moss. 

‘‘De River Island!” exclaimed Sam. 

The River Island was only about twenty years 
old. Before that, it had been a peninsula formed 
by a great loop of the river; there were a few 
fields of corn and cotton in it, and perhaps a 
house or two. Then in one spring of excep- 
tionally high water the river burst its banks, and 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


148 

tore a new channel for itself right across the neck 
of the peninsula. As the new channel was the 
shortest, it remained there, and the old channel 
shrunk to a muddy, shallow river, wandering 
sluggishly through a maze of bayous and lagoons. 
Part of the peninsula was permanently over- 
flowed; the rest of it was a wilderness of forty or 
fifty square miles. For the most part it was 
marshy and cut up with bayous, but there were 
ridges of high land near the middle. Some 
mulatto hunters dwelt near its edge, for there 
were bears, deer, wildcats, and wild hogs on the 
island; but much of the place was impenetrable 
except in winter, and probably no man had any 
thorough knowledge of its intricacies. 

The paddlers stopped, and the canoe drifted 
slowly down toward the forks of the river. On 
the right lay the new channel, which the steam- 
boats used ; on the left was the old channel, a dull, 
sluggish, shallow waterway, but almost certainly 
the one which the houseboat would have taken, 
for it led into the heart of the island. In- 
numerable bayous and lagoons were there, offer- 
ing good hiding-places, whereas the new channel 
flowed between comparatively unbroken shores. 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


149 


'"Now keep your eyes peeled, boys!’" Joe 
cautioned, ''and dip your paddles easy. Blue 
Bob ’s bound to be somewhere in here, and we Ve 
got to see him before he sees us.’’ 

Moving scarcely faster than the current, the 
canoe floated silently into the old channel. The 
stream was perhaps a hundred feet wide, and 
seldom more than four or five feet deep. The 
marks where the full river had once flowed here, 
in a channel of three times the present width, 
were still faintly to be seen, and the old river-bed 
laid bare was now a dense jungle of wet-loving 
shrubs, tied and twisted together with masses of 
creepers. The ground was a soft morass; every 
tall tree was draped with Spanish moss, and a 
heavy smell of decay of stagnation permeated the 
hot air. 

"Those pirates must be immune to malaria if 
they live here !” Bob muttered. 

Joe did not answer, gazing anxiously about 
him. He had an impression that they might en- 
counter the houseboat at any turning, and his 
nerves and eyes were on the strain. He let Sam 
and Bob paddle, while he sat in the bow, holding 
his rifle cocked and ready, though he had no idea 


150 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


of provoking hostilities if they could do their 
scouting unobserved. But no houseboat ap- 
peared ; and the channel, as it wound and twisted 
sinuously through the swamp, gave no sign that 
anybody had ever passed that way before. 

Presently a bayou twenty feet wide opened at 
one side, apparently leading toward the interior 
of the island. 

‘Xet ’s push in here. Looks like just the place 
they ’d hide in,’’ said Joe in a low voice. 

They pushed in. The bayou water was black 
and almost stagnant. Ricks of dead trees lay on 
the shores or half in the water. Queer pink 
cypress ^'knees” protruded through the mud. 
A long, brilliantly green snake wound swiftly 
through and through the branches, turning his 
head toward the stealthy canoe. A pair of wild 
ducks spattered up and rushed noisily through 
the air. The boys felt that they were hot on the 
trail, pausing behind every thicket of titi or 
palmetto and peering ahead; but within fifty 
yards further the way was completely blocked by 
a jam of fallen cypresses tangled together with 
bamboo-vine. Clearly the houseboat had never 
passed that way. 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


151 

Disappointed, they had to turn back. A few 
rods further down the channel a second bayou 
opened into the swamp. This one led them by 
intricate windings for a great distance, until they 
arrived suddenly at a wide stream, and they 
realized that they had come back into the old 
river channel again. 

The strain of keeping intensely on the alert, 
half expecting at any moment to be shot at from 
ambush, began to tell on all of them. 

‘'Dis here 's shore 'nough one tangle !’’ re- 
marked Sam, gloomily. 

‘Tt ’s worse than our bee-hunting,” said Bob, 
surveying the dismal labyrinth. 

It was so hot that mosquitoes had suddenly 
become unseasonably plentiful, too. But they 
persevered, and after a few more side excursions 
that always ended in a tangle of fallen logs or a 
sudden shoaling into mud, they came at last to a 
wider channel that opened from the main stream. 
A brisk current was setting down it, and they 
steered the canoe into it, once more with ex- 
pectation.' For several hundred yards they trav- 
eled between a dense wall of swamp trees, cloudy 
with Spanish moss that almost met overhead. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


152 

Then the current slackened, and the stream 
widened into a broad pond. 

It was a most dismal and depressing place. 
Dead cypresses and black-gum trees broke the 
surface of the lagoon, and the putty-colored 
water was full of snags and slimy branches. 
They paddled all around it, without finding any 
way out. There must have been an outlet some- 
where, but there seemed no passage for the canoe. 

‘‘Can’t we get out of here?” exclaimed Bob, 
desperately, mopping his wet brow. “This is an 
awful place. I know they never brought any 
houseboat through here.” 

“About the worst place I ever saw,” Joe agreed. 

“An’ de sun’s goin’ down direc’ly, Mr. Joe,” 
put in Sam. “Where we-all goin’ camp to- 
night?” 

The sun was, in fact, getting low behind the 
island trees. After sunset, the semi-tropical 
darkness falls quickly. The coming of night 
filled Joe with apprehension. There was no 
place in sight that was dry enough for a camp, 
and to stay in the boat would mean intolerably 
cramped quarters, myriads of mosquitoes, and 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


153 

a chance of an attack of fever. At any cost they 
must get clear of this suffocating swamp. 

*'We might manage to get out on the main 
river again. There 's dry land there/’ Bob 
suggested. 

‘'Dere’s dry land somewheres in de middle ob 
dis River Island/’ said Sam. ^'Mebbe we could 
git to it.” 

‘T wish we could. It ’s too far to go around 
to the river. Besides, I don’t know whether we 
could ever find our way back,” said Joe. ‘Tet ’s 
look out for any spot dry enough to get ashore.” 

After circling the pond they turned back into 
the channel by which they had entered it, and 
paddled some way up. A narrow, deep creek 
seemed to lead toward the middle of the island, 
and they turned wearily into it. It did not look 
like a guide to a camping ground, and before 
long it ended in a pile of fallen logs, but the soil 
did appear firm ashore. 

Joe pulled the canoe up to the fallen timber 
and was about to step out, when a thick, brown 
moccasin snake glided down the logs and dived 
without a splash into the water. When the boy 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


154 

had recovered from the start this gave him, he 
selected a different landing-place and jumped. 
The log caved in under him in a slush of rotten 
wood. He went down over his ankles in muck, 
splashed out, scrambled on a firmer tree-trunk, 
and thence got ashore upon fairly solid ground. 

‘T Ve scared all the moccasins away anyhow,’’ 
he called back. “Be careful how you jump, 
though. There may be no bottom to that 
slough.” 

Bob transferred himself ashore very cautiously 
and without getting mired. Sam tossed the 
packages of provisions to the others, and then 
scrambled upon the logs himself, securing the 
canoe by its rope to a stout branch. The 
ground was unstable and shaking; brown water 
rose into every footprint. They made their way 
inland across tiny pools and rivulets, through 
stretches of marsh overgrown with shiny, broad- 
leafed plants, over a great patch of low palmetto, 
and then the ground began to rise perceptibly and 
to grow drier and firmer. 

“Thank goodness, I believe we ’re getting out 
of it !” said Bob. 

The swamp vegetation was certainly disappear- 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


155 

ing. It was a sort of hammock land now. Here 
and there a small pine appeared. The ground 
continued to rise, thinly grown with scrub-oak, 
and at last, after half an hour's tramping, they 
came out upon the top of a hog-back ridge that 
was almost bare of trees. Standing there they 
could Idok over nearly the whole low River 
Island. 

Far to the south the main channel of the 
Alabama showed like a silver ribbon. West- 
ward the river was nearer, but was invisible, 
its course being indicated only by the belt of dark 
swamp trees. Eastward the swamps seemed to 
run almost endlessly, but for an occasional ridge 
top like the one on which they stood. After the 
dark misery of those morasses the fresh air and 
the clear sunlight seemed delightful ; but the sun 
was already sinking low over the woods. 

They all brightened up wonderfully at getting 
out of that maze of mud and water. Sam threw 
off his hat with a loud exclamation of satis- 
faction. 

''Dis here 's a fine place to camp !" he said 
enthusiastically. ‘'Heaps of wood an' dry — " 

He stopped suddenly, with his rovng black eyes 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


156 

fixed on something down to the west, and his face 
grew keen and suspicious. 

'Took, Mr. Joe!’’ he exclaimed. "Down 
yander, dere ’s a house 1” 

The white boys gazed where Sam’s finger 
pointed. But for the quick-eyed negro it might 
have escaped them, but now they saw it plainly 
enough — saw, at least, the gray patch among the 
green that was nothing but a shingled roof. It 
lay half a mile or so westward, apparently not 
far from the main river, and on somewhat lower 
ground than the ridge. 

"We ’ve got to investigate that,” said Joe, star- 
ing. 

"Hoi’ on, Mr. Joe!” Sam ejaculated. "Don’t 
you reckon mebbe dat ’s Blue Bob’s place?” 

"Shucks ! Those fellows have n’t got a house. 
They live on the river,” said Joe. "Besides, is n’t 
their place just what we ’re trying to find?” 

"We must see what it is, anyway. Come 
along,” said Bob. 

They started down the slope of the ridge again, 
descended into a swampy valley, crossed a muddy, 
sluggish creek on a log, made a detour to avoid 
an absolutely impassable thicket of tall black- 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


157 

berry-canes, and gradually came upon rising 
ground again. Scrub-oak reappeared ; the ground 
rose, and then appeared to descend, and from the 
highest point they saw the mysterious build- 
ing again, and more clearly. It was a small 
cabin, looking weather-beaten and gray, almost 
swamped in thickets, and there was no smoke 
from its chimney nor any sign of life. 

''Just an old deserted negro cabin, I expect,'’ 
said Joe, but they advanced cautiously all the 
saime, the white boys in front with rifles ready, 
and Sam lagging a little in the rear with the 
load of supplies. 

The cabin went out of sight again among the 
trees, but within a hundred yards they came upon 
a little spring. It had once been walled up with 
stones, and a tin cup, destroyed with rust, lay in 
the water. A tiny rivulet flowed away from it, 
down the slope ahead of them, and after another 
fifty yards' cautious advance Joe stopped, peer- 
ing through the branches. 

The cabin was just ahead, nearly surrounded 
by thickets of blackberry and wild growths of 
shrubbery. The briefest examination showed 
that it was untenanted. The doors and windows 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


158 

were gone; vines hung in masses from the eaves, 
and tangles of weeds grew tall around the small 
veranda made by a continuation of the roof over 
the doorway. 

“All safe! No river pirates here!’' said Joe, 
laughing, and he threw his rifle over his shoulder 
and walked toward the shanty. 

The others followed him. The ground was so 
encumbered with thickets of scrub-oak and tall 
weeds and blackberries that they had to wind 
in and out as if through a maze to get up to the 
cabin. A glance inside showed that no one had 
dwelt there for some time. Drifts of leaves and 
dirt littered the plank floor ; there was not a par- 
ticle of anything movable in it, and the rude stone 
fireplace was destitute of ashes. 

A glance inside was enough. Joe stepped off 
the crumbling veranda. 

“It 's a roof over our heads for to-night, any- 
way,” he said. “Shall we camp in it, or rough 
it outside?” 

Bob did not answer. He was looking curiously 
into the air, into the cloudless blue of the late 
afternoon sky. In the dead silence there was a 
curious low murmur, a faint drone. 


THE RIVER ISLAND 


159 


'^Sounds to me like — like something Bob mut- 
tered, still with his nose in the air. Looking up 
likewise, Joe perceived small dark specks coming 
down from the sky, coming over the tree-tops 
with the rapidity of light, and plunging down 
among the thickets around the cabin. 

To the left of the old shanty the whole earth 
was a sea of blackberry-thickets, an acre or more 
of impenetrable, thorny jungle, growing almost 
shoulder-high. Bob advanced as close as pos- 
sible, tried to part the canes, and peered in. He 
recoiled with an exclamation, brushing at his 
cheek, where a black bee was clinging and sting- 
ing furiously. 

thought I knew that noise he cried. ‘Tt ’s 
bees. See ’em coming through the air! That 
thicket ’s chock full of bee-gums. I ■ can see 
’em.” 

^^Shore ’nough!” exclaimed Sam. ‘T bet dis 
yere ’s where dat old nigger Dick uster live, dat 
dey tells ’bout.” 

Bob looked at his cousin with comprehension 
dawning in his eyes. ^^That ’s it 1” he said. 
‘‘Joe, we ’ve found Old Dick’s bees after all!” 


CHAPTER IX 


BEES AND ROSIN 

^‘TDO believe we have!’' Joe exclaimed. ‘‘Yes, I 
-I hear the bees now. I did n’t know what that 
humming could be.” 

“Yes-suh, dis shorely is dat Old Dick’s cabin,” 
Sam assured them. ‘T remembers now dey said 
he lived way down in dis yere River Island.” 

‘Why on earth did n’t you tell me sooner ? I 
asked you about it long ago?” cried Joe. 

“Did n’t remember ’bout it dat time. But, Mr. 
Joe, we don’t wanter fool with no bees now, not 
whilst w'e ’re huntin’ dat rosin.” 

“The bees might be worth as much as the 
rosin,” said Bob. “What do you think they ’d be 
worth if we had them up North, Sam?” 

“Dunno what they ’d be worth up Norf,” said 
the negro, “but down yere where dey is, dey ’re 
worth jes’ mighty near nothin’.” 

“I guess that ’s so,” Bob admitted, “but if they 

i6o 


BEES AND ROSIN i6i 

were in Canada I M expect to make a thousand 
dollars out of them next summer/’ 

Sam laughed loudly, taking this to be a joke. 

“The question is, how many gums are there?” 
said Joe. 

It was impossible to tell. The blackberry- 
canes screened the ancient apiary, and only dimly 
could be seen the shapes of the gums, swamped 
by the undergrowth. Some of the gums were 
doubtless dead, but from the numbers of homing 
bees in the air Bob declared that there must be 
dozens of live ones, at any rate. 

“We ’ll have to clear away all this jungle be- 
fore we can tell anything about it really,” he con- 
tinued. “We ’ll have to have something to cut 
the blackberries away, and we ’d need veils and 
smoke, too. These wild bees are going to be 
cross, sure.” 

He looked about as if he thought of starting 
operations immediately, but at that very moment 
sounded, faint and far off through the trees, the 
report of a gunshot. 

Sam stiffened up to attention like some alarmed 
wild animal, rolling his eyes in the direction of 
the sound. Both the white boys stood for a full 


i 62 the WOODS-RIDER 

half -minute, intently listening, but no other shot 
came. 

'That was our fellows!’’ Joe muttered. 

"But it was far away,” said his cousin. "All 
of a mile, I should think.” 

"Yes, and away over past the old channel,” 
said Joe. "Down in the very district we were 
exploring. If we ’d kept on, we might have run 
right into them. Well, we can’t do anything to- 
night ; and they ’re likely tied up for the night 
too. I expect that was Blue Bob shooting a wild 
duck for supper.” 

The shot had put the bees out of their heads, 
recalling the more immediate purpose. It was 
getting too late to investigate the bees, too ; they 
were ceasing to fly, and a dull, steady roar re- 
sounded from the recesses of the blackberries, 
telling Bob’s experienced ear that there were 
strong colonies in there that had had a good day. 

The sun was shining red behind the trees now, 
and in an hour it would be dark. The question 
of a camp-ground was an urgent one, and they 
went in to look at the possibilities of the old cabin. 
Bob stopped just inside, snifflng. 

"Smells like a beehive in here,” he remarked. 


BEES AND ROSIN 163 

There was indeed an unmistakable odor of 
honey and beeswax in the air, and with a cry of 
astonishment Sam pointed at a recess between 
the wall and the roof. There hurjg a great mass 
of brown honeycomb, covered with crawling 
bees. 

They had an exit to the open air through a wide 
crack in the wall, and two or three of them took 
wing and buzzed threateningly about the intrud- 
ers. Sam hastily retreated. 

‘'A swarm must have hived itself here and built 
its combs right on the boards,’’ said Bob, examin- 
ing the mass cautiously. '^By the dark color of 
the wax, they ’ve been here more than one season. 
When Old Dick moved out the bees moved in, it 
seems. I suppose they ’d stand the winter all 
right in this country, but they would n’t last long 
in such a place up North.” 

“Well, we can ’t sleep in this shanty, anyway,” 
said Joe with decision. “I draw the line at camp- 
ing in a beehive.” 

“They might bother us some, and very likely 
there are more nests like this in the place,” Bob 
admitted. “We ’ll find a place outside.” 

“We ’ll go up by the spring,” said Joe. “Sam, 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


164 

hunt up some dry wood and get a fire going. 
We 'll unpack the grub." 

There was a certain risk in lighting a fire, but 
Sam built it in a little hollow on the side of the 
slope, and screened it further with branches, so 
that the glow could not be seen far. Bob had 
brought a quantity of raw pork — the comestible 
that came nearest to his hand at his hurried de- 
parture — and Sam sliced it and set the slices up 
on little sticks to broil. He also made a short 
circuit of the camp and gathered a quantity of 
pepper-grass for salad; they had still some corn- 
bread and sweet-potatoes, and there was plenty 
of good spring water. It was not a bad meal, 
they all agreed; and being extremely tired, they 
all stretched themselves on the soft ground after 
eating. 

Lying at a little distance, Sam crooned some 
wordless African melody half under his breath. 
Bob talked with his cousin for a few minutes, and 
then began to breathe heavily, but Toe lay sleep- 
less for a long time. It was a hot, close night, 
and even on the high ground the mosquitoes 
hummed in multitudes. He shuddered to think 
what their numbers must be down in the bayous. 


BEES AND ROSIN 165 

He wondered if the river pirates became even- 
tually immune to their stings. 

He got up and went quietly to the top of the 
ridge to see if there was any distant camp-fire 
visible. Not a spark was in sight, and a white 
mist lay low and thick over the swamps. Some- 
where far away he heard the sudden, sharp shriek 
of a wildcat. Owls hooted hollowly; bats flitted 
silently about; the air was full of winged insects, 
whizzing, humming, buzzing. He felt less un- 
easiness about the proximity of the houseboat, 
for the darkness and the river fog would conceal 
one party as well as the other. He returned to 
the dying fire and lay down again, hugging his 
rifle. He wondered for some time if one of them 
should not stand guard, but while he was con- 
sidering it he fell asleep. 

He wakened again several times during that 
night*; but at last he opened his eyes to find the 
east reddening, and the earth silvery with the dew. 
Mist lay over the swamps, and a belt of mist 
marked the course of the river. Bob and Sam 
were still asleep, but they awoke at his move- 
ments, and the negro rebuilt the fire. It was 
desirable to have the fire out before the mist 


i66 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


cleared to make smoke visible, and they hastened 
to broil the rest of the pork, and also roasted the 
eggs for an emergency luncheon. 

''How about the bees?” said Bob when they 
had finished breakfast and put out the fire. 

"Dis no time to fool with no bees!” Sam ex- 
postulated; but the boys walked down to look at 
the cabin again. It was too early for the bees to 
be flying much; only an occasional insect shot 
out from the thicket, heading toward the swamps 
where the titi was still blooming. Passing 
around the cabin, they pushed through the thick- 
ets of gallberry and scrub-oak, and presently 
found themselves close to a broad, deep bayou, 
flowing with a tolerably strong current between 
firm banks. 

"I declare!” Joe exclaimed. "This must lead 
out to the river, and it can't be more than a few 
hundred yards, either. I wish we had time to 
find out.” 

"If we only had the canoe here!” Bob regret- 
ted. "Well, we 'll know how to find the place a- 
gain.” 

"If we ever come back.” 

"Oh, I 'm coming back,” declared Bob with de- 


BEES AND ROSIN 167 

termination. ''I 'm going to have those bees, in 
spite of all the river pirates.’^ 

The swamps were too dense to think of ex- 
ploring the bayou to its mouth, and it would not 
have been worth while, for there was no doubt 
that it must flow into the main channel of the 
Alabama. After fixing the landmarks in their 
memory, they went back, picked up their supplies, 
and started for the canoe again, to continue the 
hunt, with a much more definite idea now in what 
direction to steer. 

Going down from the ridges they found the 
night fog still lying thickly, and their back trail 
was not so easy to pick out through the dense, 
wet undergrowth. They lost it; they found it 
again in soft ground, but they had to retrace their 
steps many times, and it must have been a full 
hour before they found their last nights' foot- 
prints sunk deep in the sloughs of| the lower 
ground, and came to the spot where they had left 
the canoe. Sam, who was leading as tracker, 
stopped with a cry of dismay. 

‘'De canoe's gone!" 

‘What?" Joe exclaimed. “Impossible! This 
can't be the right place." 


i68 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


‘^Yes-suh, dis de right place, shore ’nough. 
Here our tracks. See, yander 's de big log where 
de moccasin slided out. Dere 's de place where 
you sunk in.” 

''Yes, here ’s where we left it,” said Bob. 
"But look here, Joe! What are these tracks? 
None of us made these!” 

"Dat 's shorely so. Somebody ’s done come 
an' stole our boat!” Sam exclaimed. 

There were indeed fresh tracks in the wet 
ground, tracks fresher than the ones they had 
made last night. They were deep marks of heavy 
boots, stamped deep into the mud, so confused 
that it was hard to say if more than one person 
had made them. But they had been made by 
none of the boys' party, and it was certain that 
some one had come through the swamp, cut the 
canoe loose, and paddled away in it. 

"We're in a pickle now!” Bob ejaculated. 
"What are we going to do?” 

"I dunno,” said Sam. "Course, with your 
guns an' my fish-hooks we kin live on dis island 
long 's we like — live good too, yes-suh. Or we 
might mebbe swim de old channel an' git 'cross 
to where somebody lives.” 


BEES AND ROSIN 169 

“Can’t we trail that thief’s back track and see 
where he came from?” Joe suggested. 

“Good idea !” cried Bob. “He must have come 
from his camp, or from the houseboat, that ’s 
certain. Very likely he’s paddled back there. 
Maybe we ’ll find the rosin there, too.” 

“Mebbe find more ’n we kin swaller,” said Sam ; 
but they started at once to follow the trail back. 
The marks were plain enough, for the men — 
there certainly appeared more than one — had 
tramped recklessly through mud and water. The 
boys followed them through a swamp, across a 
creek, over a dry ridge, and then down again into 
a partly overflowed area, where the water stood 
among dead timber, tall grass, and piles of rot- 
ting logs. 

As they came up a moccasin squirmed away 
into the mud. It looked a dangerous place in 
more ways than one. Joe almost flinched as he 
remembered his former experience with the bog, 
but they equipped themselves with stout sticks 
to feel the way or kill snakes, and waded in. The 
water proved scarcely knee-deep after all, and 
they were nearly across when Bob stepped un- 
expectedly into a deep hole of mud and water. 


170 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


He might have gone down almost out of sight, 
if Sam had not clutched him by the collar and 
dragged him forward. Joe also seized his arm; 
it was hard to free his feet from the tenacious 
mud, but Bob at last got his arms around a cy- 
press knee, and by pulling all at once they hauled 
him free. 

They got across the bog without further mis- 
hap, but Bob was scared and shaken, and he had 
to sit down to recover himself. He was covered 
with mud; his rifle was mired also, and he had to 
take it to pieces, wipe the action dry, and fill the 
magazine afresh. 

Then, when they were ready to go on, they 
found that they had lost the trail. Nowhere on 
that side of the bog could they find any tracks. 

In hopes of striking the trail again they de- 
cided to fetch a circle all around the morass, but 
this device failed. Perhaps the tracks of the 
thieves had disappeared in the half-liquid mud. 
Perhaps the men had taken pains to pick their 
way on pieces of fallen timber. They struck a 
still wider circle without any more success, and 
they had to steer so crooked a course through the 


BEES AND ROSIN 


171 


swamp that when they thought themselves back 
at the starting-^point they failed to find the flowed 
tract they had crossed. 

'Tost — there 's no doubt about it exclaimed 
Bob, halting. 

All the swamp looked queer and strange about 
them. They had not been at that place before. 
The trees were so dense that they could hardly 
see the sky, but the sun looked somewhat out of 
place. 

'T dunno where we is,’’ said Sam. "But I 
knows where de old channel is. I kin go straight 
there, yes-suh.” 

They debated for some minutes, and then 
started to find the old channel to make a fresh 
start. Sam started with a great deal of con- 
fidence, but within fifteen minutes they came to a 
slough of what seemed bottomless mud. Stiff- 
leaved palmetto grew on hard spots, mixed with 
small, dense titi shrubbery, and red-tipped cypress 
knees thrust themselves out of the morass, like 
strange fungi. Half-sunken fallen trees lay all 
over the surface, offering a possible way across ; 
and for a hundred yards they scrambled through 


172 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


this nauseous jungle, clinging to the shrubs 
and jumping from log to log. But the far- 
ther they went the worse the traveling seemed to 
get. 

^We ’ll have to give this up,” said Joe at last. 
‘'Let ’s try to get back to high ground and get our 
bearings again.” 

But it was as hard now to get back as to go 
forward, and they were so shut in by the swamp 
that they had very little idea in which direction 
the high ground lay. Almost at random, they 
made an angle to the right. They no longer knew 
whether they were going toward the river or 
away from it. The swamp had them trapped. 
Mosquitoes hung about them in clouds. They 
were wet and mud-covered and scratched with 
thorns, and the continual sudden dart and wrig- 
gle of a moccasin snake every few minutes kept 
them in a state of nervous tension. A moccasin’s 
bite is not usually fatal, but it is very sickening, 
and it would have been no joke for one of them 
to have been bitten while they were snared in the 
labyrinth. They had almost reached the point of 
exhaustion and despair when they came to a really 
dry spot, like an island in the swamp, grown over 


BEES AND ROSIN 


173 

thickly with palmetto; and here they stopped to 
rest. 

The sun still appeared somewhat out of place 
in the heavens, but from its height the day must 
be getting toward noon. Sam volunteered to 
climb the highest tree within reach and recon- 
noiter. He came down reporting that the ground 
seemed to rise not very far away to the left, and 
they started forward again. The maze of marsh 
and jungle continued. Twice they had to wade 
thigh-deep across bayous — or perhaps the same 
bayou — and they were all losing faith in the new 
course, when they came out upon the shore of a 
deep stream perhaps twenty feet wide, heavily 
overshadowed with trees. 

''Surely this is n’t the channel,” said Bob. 

"Too narrow, I think,” said Joe doubtfully. 
There was a fairly strong current running, how- 
ever, which indicated that the stream at any 
rate communicated with one of the great chan- 
nels. There was comparatively solid ground 
along the shore, and they walked up the stream 
a little way, when Sam suddenly stopped and 
sniffed the air. 

"Mr. Joe!” he whispered, "I smells rosin!” 


174 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


They all stopped and sniffed also, but neither 
Bob nor Joe could detect anything. Sam was 
positive, however, and they cautiously proceeded 
a few yards farther. Here a heavy screen of 
rattan vine and honeysuckle drooped so heavily 
over the bayou that they could see no farther. 

''Now you-all smell said Sam triumphantly. 

This time Joe did detect the unmistakable odor 
of scorched rosin, the pervading odor at the tur- 
pentine-camp. It seemed to come from right 
ahead. 

"If it 's rosin, it ’s likely to be the rosin thieves 
too,’’ Bob muttered. 

But there was no sound, except the gurgle of 
the water flowing under the drooping creepers 
that dipped in the current. Directly before them 
the tangle of jungle on the shore was impassable. 
With extreme caution, they made a little detour, 
crawling through the green thicket. The smell 
of burnt rosin was sharp enough now ; then Joe, 
who was leading, suddenly held back a warning 
hand, and dropped flat. 

For a good half-minute they all lay motion- 
less ; then Bob crawled up beside Joe to look. He 
was at the edge of the thicket. Beyond them lay 


BEES AND ROSIN 


175 

the black houseboat, tied to a tree in the bayou, 
half-concealed by the streamers of vines and 
moss that swung from all the branches overhead. 
There was a little space of high and dry shore 
beside it, and two heavy planks ran as a gangway 
from the boat to the land. On the shore was 
a great iron kettle set up on stones, with dead 
ashes under it. Several barrels stood about ; the 
ground was covered with lumps of rosin and 
rosin-soaked burlap cloths, and the smell was 
strong enough now. 

^ We Ve landed ’em !” Bob whispered in the ear 
of his cousin, who nodded with a grin. 

Nothing was to be seen of the pirates. The 
boys lay hidden for a long time, watching and 
listening, but nothing' stirred about the place. 
The houseboat swung and strained at her moor- 
ing-rope ; the current gurgled along her side. If 
her crew were aboard they must be all asleep. 

'T ’m going to find out, anyway!” Joe whis- 
pered. 'Tf they ’re there we must jump on ’em 
quick, and hold ’em up before they know where 
they are. But I believe they ’re all away.” 

He got up and stepped boldly out of the 
shrubbery, carrying his cocked rifle ready. Bob 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


176 

came after him, and Sam, with a heavy club, fol- 
lowed them both. Joe walked straight to the 
gangplank and stepped aboard. 

The cabin of the boat was cut in two by a sort 
of hallway, or ^'dog-trot,’' running right across 
it amidships, and the plank led up to this. Their 
first step on the gangplank showed something that 
had before been invisible — a barrel standing in 
this corridor, whose smears and stains of rosin 
indicated its contents. 

From the ^'dog-trot^' a half-opened door was 
on each side. Joe put his head into the stern 
cabin. No one was there. The small room was 
fitted with four bunks against the wall, filled with 
dry Spanish moss and some ragged blankets. 
There were a rough wooden chair, a plank table. 
A half -full box of shotgun shells, a broken bottle, 
and a cob pipe lay on the floor. Adjoining this 
room was a tiny apartment evidently used as a 
kitchen when weather did not permit of cooking 
at a fire ashore, for there were a small stove, scat- 
tered lumps of wood, a few cooking-utensils, a 
sack of meal, a suspended ham. 

It was pretty certain now that no one was 
aboard the boat, and the boys looked into the 


BEES AND ROSIN 


177 


forward cabin with less uneasiness. But at the 
first glance Bob uttered a loud exclamation. 
There were four barrels in the room, which, 
though headed up, showed the hardened rosin 
oozing from the cracks between the staves. 

''Told you-all we ’d shore find it exclaimed 
Sam, exultantly. "All dug out an’ melted an’ 
strained an’ barreled up for us. We shore 
oughter be ’bleeged to Mr. Blue Bob!” 

"Yes, but this is n’t anything,” said Joe. 
"Where’s the rest of it — ^the thousand barrels 
you said we’d get?” 

"I declare, I dunno!” Sam confessed. "Mr. 
Joe, you don’t reckon dey ’ve done shipped it to 
Mobile an’ sold it?” 

"I ’m afraid that ’s just what they ’ve done, 
Sam,” replied Joe, regretfully. "But let ’s look 
ashore a little.” 

They landed and examined the impromptu re- 
finery. The impure rosin had evidently been 
melted up in the big kettle, and there were a big, 
rough trough, caked with the brown stuff, a 
wire-cloth strainer, and a quantity of burlap. 
All these things showed indications of much 
use. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


178 

The barrels on the shore were empty, with the 
exception of one that was about a third full of 
hard strained rosin. The kettle was quite cold; 
everything looked as if it was some time since 
operations had ceased. 

^^Afraid we Ve come in just at the end of the 
job,” said Joe sadly. ‘Tikely it 's as Sam said, 
they Ve been melting and barreling up all this 
rosin, and sending it down to Mobile as soon as 
they had a load. We Ve too late.” 

Sam groaned loudly at this decision. 

^‘Let ’s have another look aboard,” Bob sug- 
gested. 'Ts n't there a hold or something under- 
neath the deck?” 

They went over to the houseboat again very 
carefully without making any fresh discoveries 
beyond two rosin-caked shovels, doubtless used in 
clearing out the '^mine.” If there was a space 
underneath the deck they could not find any way 
of getting into it; and, in fact, Joe knew that 
these houseboats seldom have any storage space 
in the hull. 

Giving up hope at last, they paused on the stern 
deck, where they had finished their search. 

''Might as well give it up, I reckon,” said Joe. 


BEES AND ROSIN 


179 

‘^But how we ’ll 'get home without our canoe is 
more than I know.” 

''S’posin we turn dis boat loose,” Sam pro- 
posed. ‘^We could float right down to Dixie 
Landin’, an’ dese few barrels of rosin is shorely 
worth somethin’.” 

"‘No, we don’t want to steal their boat, even if 
they did steal our canoe,” returned Joe. ''And 
these four barrels of rosin aren’t worth the 
trouble of — ” 

He stopped short as a distant sound struck his 
ear. They had all heard it at once — a dip and 
splash of paddles from far up the bayou above 
them. 

"Hear dat? Dat’s Blue Bob a-comin’, Mr. 
Joe!” said Sam in a loud, scared whisper. "Cut 
dis boat loose, quick !” 

"Get ashore !” exclaimed Bob. "They ’ll catch 
us here.” 

"Back into the cabin, till we see who they are!” 
Joe ejaculated. 

They stood still, amid these contradictory 
orders, undecided. The paddles sounded closer, 
around a bend of the channel. Joe dragged his 
cousin back inside the cabin door. He had a sud- 


i8o THE WOODS-RIDER 

den impulse to rush ashore after all. Then Sam, 
almost gray with fright, rushed at the mooring- 
rope and began to saw at it with his knife. 

‘'Hold on, Sam! Stop that!'' Joe hissed at 
him, but the negro had severed the strands. The 
last of them parted with a jerk, and the released 
houseboat instantly swung out. The gangplanks 
splashed into the water. Without any control, 
the boat reeled across the bayou, half grounded, 
swung off again and smashed through the cur- 
tain of vines that had shielded her anchorage. 
There was a ripping and crushing of twigs and 
leaves, and then the branches closed in behind 
them. They were through and out of sight of 
pursuit. 


CHAPTER X 


DOWN THE RIVER 

‘‘T^ODGED ’em!’’ exclaimed Bob. 

-L/ They could still hear the dipping paddles, 
and a faint mutter of voices. In another minute 
the new-comers would perceive that the big boat 
was gone. But for the present the boys were 
screened from sight, and a stretch of fairly open 
water lay ahead. Joe stepped cautiously out of 
the cabin and seized the great steering-oar, try- 
ing to hold the houseboat straight down the chan- 
nel. But she was clumsy to handle. She banged 
against a tree-trunk, struck a snag with a ter- 
rific jar, and then drifted sidewise around a bend. 
Bob came to help at the helm, but their united 
efforts were incapable of holding the boat 
straight. 

‘‘You-all better git your guns ready,” Sam ad- 
vised. ''Dem fellers goin’ find out de boat ’s 
gone, an’ be after us mighty sharp.” 


i 82 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


Joe was extremely angry at Sam’s rash act in 
cutting the boat loose. The heavy craft could 
never keep ahead of paddles, and at any moment 
the channel might end in a log- jam or a lagoon. 
And, to intensify his fears, there was a sudden 
shout of surprise and anger from behind. The 
thieves had discovered the loss of the houseboat. 

'Tf you had n’t been such a fool we would n’t 
be in this scrape!” Joe exclaimed. ^'Now I think 
we ’d better turn this boat loose and take to the 
woods.” 

''Dey ’re bound to cotch us anyways,” returned 
Sam pessimistically. 

It was not so easy to take to the woods. The 
shores were flooded on both sides. Water stood 
among the trees wherever they looked ; there was 
no place to land. To plunge into that snake- 
haunted lagoon, into possible quicksands, was 
worse than to face the guns of the river-men. 

In spite of their weight on the steering-oar, 
the heavy craft wallowed from one side of the 
channel to the other, moving with maddening 
slowness. Joe craned his head around to look 
forward; he thought he saw drier ground ahead, 


DOWN THE RIVER 183 

and then the boat grounded heavily on a great 
sunken log. 

''Help me shove her off!'' he exclaimed. "Run 
forward, Sam. Get that other oar." 

There was another big sweep at the bow, which 
the negro hastened to secure. The boat, pivot- 
ing round on the current, drove further on the 
obstruction, and heeled so far over that the deck 
sloped at a sharp angle. Joe and Bob shoved 
furiously. But the craft still stuck, and, as they 
hung there helplessly, there was another shout 
behind, and they saw a canoe just poking around 
the bend of the bayou. 

By instinct they all dropped flat where they 
stood. 

"Crawl back into the cabin," Joe whispered. 
"They must n't see us." 

The two boys wormed back, flat on their faces. 
Looking through the cabin they espied Sam also 
crawling toward them, his eyes rolling with 
fright. He too had seen the coming canoe. Joe 
gestured at him, and he lay down just inside the 
door leading to the "dog-trot." 

As yet they had evidently not been seen. Joe 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


184 

took a cautious peep at the approaching canoe. 
It was their own canoe, as he had guessed, and 
he was relieved to see that there were only two 
men in her. They were coming on carelessly, 
talking as they paddled. It appeared that they 
thought the houseboat had broken adrift by acci- 
dent. 

‘Tucky she stuck here,” he heard one of them 
say. *T done told you-all that rope wouldn't 
hold, noways.” 

The canoe came up alongside, arid both the 
boys saw it plainly. In the bow was the sallow- 
faced man with whom Joe had spoken up the 
river. At the stern was a tall, heavily-built man, 
with long black hair, and a cruel, brutal face. 
Across his brow, exposed by the pushed-back hat, 
was a great blue-black mark or stain, probably 
made by the powder-marks of a gun fired too 
close to his face. It was the relic of some deadly 
brawl, no doubt, and Joe guessed that this must 
be the redoubtable Blue Bob himself. Both men 
had guns laid back against the seats, and both 
carried sheath-knives. 

Bob looked at his cousin questioningly, and 
touched his rifle. Joe hesitated, lying with the 


DOWN THE RIVER 185 

powerful little rifle cuddled against his face and 
his finger on the trigger. He could easily have 
picked ofif both the men as they came up, but a 
boat-load of rosin did not seem worth two men’s 
lives. But more than that was at stake. It was 
a question of saving their own lives. In a fight 
their only chance would lie in shooting first. 

He put his head close to his cousin’s ear and 
whispered : 

''We ’ll let them come aboard. The moment 
they ’re on the deck we’ll draw a bead on them 
and make them drop their guns.” 

The canoe ran alongside the houseboat, touch- 
ing her at the end of the "dog-trot,” which now 
slanted so steeply that the lower rail almost 
dipped under water. Blue Bob stood up care- 
fully in the canoe, gun in hand, and prepared to 
step aboard. 

Bob and Joe had their sights on him. The 
river-man had one foot on the deck and the other 
still in the canoe, when Sam leaped up with a 
yell of absolute desperation, and seized the barrel 
of rosin that stood in the passage. With a vio- 
lent swing he half hurled it, half rolled it. It 
went like an avalanche down the steep slope. It 


i86 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


caught the pirate on the legs before he could 
dodge it. The flimsy rail crashed under the 
three-hundred pound weight. There was a yell, 
a curse, and canoe, barrel, and men collapsed into 
wreckage together. 

^'Whoop-ee ! Dere dey go yelled Sam, 
wild with triumph. 

Joe raised himself and caught a glimpse of the 
smashed canoe, of the men's heads struggling 
in a seething mass of muddy water. And at that 
moment the houseboat floated clear, whether by 
the jar of the fracas or by the lightening of the 
barrel cast overboard. She ground slowly off 
the log, swung about and began to drift again. 

^Tie down !" said Joe under his breath, pulling 
Bob back as he was about to jump to his feet. 

It occurred to him that the river-men had seen 
only Sam, and would attribute the whole affair to 
negroes. He had expected the pirates to clamber 
aboard out of the water but a cautious peep 
showed them crawling ashore, dripping, only one 
of them still with a gun. Climbing out in the 
mud of the bank they both shook their fists to- 
ward the retreating houseboat, shouting threats 


DOWN THE RIVER 187 

and curses whose words were hardly distin- 
guishable. 

It was impossible to stop the boat or to give 
them any help, and neither of the boys had any 
sort of inclination to do so. These woods were 
familiar to the river-men ; they would make their 
way to some accustomed spot, and there were 
almost certainly more of the gan^; somewhere 
about, who would give them assistance. 

It was not till the clumsy craft sagged around 
another wooded bend that the boys ventured to 
stand on the deck. Sam approached them, all one 
broad grin of triumph. 

''Reckon I put dem fellers out ’er bizness dat 
time! What you say, Mr. Joe?” he exclaimed. 

"You surely did, Sam. You did nobly,” Joe 
admitted. "It was just the thing. But now 
you Ve got to steer us out of this bayou.” 

For the present nobody could do anything but 
steer right ahead. The stream widened a little; 
the shores became higher and drier. Joe thought 
by the direction that they must be approaching 
the main channel of the Alabama, when Bob 
seized his shoulder and pointed ashore. 


i88 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


The ground went up in a slope, overgrown with 
blackberries, small pines, and oaks, and through 
the thickets he caught a glimpse of the gray plank- 
ing of a cabin surrounded by blackberry-thickets. 

''Gracious! Old Dick's place!" he gasped. 

"That ’s what it surely is," said Bob. "If 
we 'd just waited here we might have seen the 
houseboat come right down past us before long." 

"I declare!" said Joe, still in amazement. '‘I 
never dreamed that it was the same bayou. Well, 
we know where we are at last. We don't want 
to go ashore here, do we?" 

"No, I guess not," returned Bob, looking long- 
ingly up at the home of the bees. "I guess we 'd 
better get out of this River Island as soon as we 
can. But where are we going in this boat, and 
what are we going to do with her ?" 

"Float her down into the river," said Joe. "Of 
course we don’t want to steal their boat, and 
we 'll tie her up and leave her at the first landing 
we come to. They 'll J)e sure to come looking for 
her down the river, and they 'll find her all right. 
I 'm going to confiscate these four barrels of 
rosin, though. They 're worth thirty or forty 
dollars. We 'll either get the boat up to Magnolia 


DOWN THE RIVER 


189 

or get somebody to drive us over to the railroad. 
I suppose I dl go back to the plantation with you. 
I Ve got nowhere else to go now.” 

The consciousness of his unfortunate position 
came upon the woods-rider with extreme gloom. 
He had made up his mind that nothing was to be 
expected from Burnam, and he had counted on 
this rosin to recoup his loss. This had turned 
out an utter failure, and he no longer had his job. 

‘T suppose I might get another place as woods- 
rider somewhere,” he said. ‘To tell you the 
truth, I ’d thought quite seriously of going into 
the bee business with you, if this rosin mine had 
only panned out.” 

‘T wish you could, Joe,” said his cousin ear- 
nestly. “We ’d like to have you, and you ’d find 
it ’d pay better than turpentining.” 

Sam, who had been listening, burst into a peal 
of laughter at this. 

“Bees pays better 'n turpentinin’ !” he shouted. 
“Hi-yi ! Dat shorely is a joke !” 

“You don’t know anything about bees, Sam,” 
said Bob severely. “Up North we owned close to 
ten million bees and two hundred queen bees. 
Every queen would lay ten thousand eggs a week. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


190 

and every egg would hatch into a new bee. 
We Ve had pretty near a car-load of ho’ney at 
once. One hive will make more honey than you 
could carry. I Ve seen nearly one of those rosin- 
barrels full of honey taken off of one hive — ^worth 
fifteen cents a pound. These gums down here 
aren’t big enough to hold a crop, and the bees 
swarm and go away. Our hives are made so 
that they can be enlarged as the bees fill them 
up. They grow higher and higher, till they Ve 
higher than your head, all full of bees and honey 
and wax from top to bottom. There are men 
who made ten thousand dollars out of their honey 
in one summer. I ’ll bet Burnam never made as 
much as that.” 

Sam’s face had grown sober under this lesson 
in apiculture. He looked very doubtfully at the 
Canadian, uncertain whether it was a joke. 

'Ts all dat so, Mr. Joe?” he enquired dubi- 
ously. 

‘T reckon it is,” Joe returned. 

‘'Well, den,” said Sam thoughtfully. “Don’t 
you reckon we-all ’d better leave off turpentinin’ 
an’ go into de bee bizness? I knows where 
dere ’s heaps of bee trees. Only,” he added, “I ’s 


DOWN THE RIVER 


191 

afraid dese here swamp bees ain’t never learned 
to do no such stunts as you-all talk ’bout.” 

''Sam ’s right,” said Bob. "These swamp bees 
are a pretty scrub lot, I expect. Breed counts as 
much in bees as it does in horses. But all we 
have to do is to give these bees an Italian queen- 
mother. All the new bees hatching out then 
would be pure Italians, and in a few weeks the 
whole swarm would be through-bred.” 

"Well, it sounds mighty interesting,” said Joe, 
"and I ’d like to go into it, if I could only raise 
some capital. I ’m sorry now I left Burnam in 
such a hurry. I think I ’ll see him when we get 
back, and find out what he ’s going to do.” 

"Hi !” shouted Sam suddenly. "Dere ’s de 
river !” 

So it was. The bayou had opened out, and 
just ahead they saw the wide flood of the 
Alabama. 

"Thank goodness! We ’re out of the swamps 
at last!” Bob exclaimed with great feeling. 

But as the houseboat came into the current of 
the big stream, turning southward, her bottom 
grounded. She swung off a little, turned half 
about, and stuck solidly. 


192 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


‘^Stuck on a sand-bar at the last minute!’’ Joe 
groaned in disgust. 

Sounding with a stick, they found scarcely three 
feet of water over the side. The boat was hard 
and fast, 'and the current was pushing her more 
into the shoal at every moment. The boys 
stripped oif the greater part of their clothing and 
got overboard. They heaved and hauled at the 
boat, tried to scrape away the sand, labored in the 
water for more than an hour, and finally gave it 
up temporarily and returned on board to rest. 
Then they attacked it again, but it was late in the 
afternoon when they finally got her afloat again, 
by the use of enormous levers brought from the 
woods. 

Pushing out into the full current of the river, 
they let her drift, feeling at last tolerably sure 
that the adventure was almost over. They got 
out the provisions and ate them on the foreward 
deck-space. The sun went down; the dusk fell 
fast, but they saw no light ashore that would in- 
dicate any landing where they could put up the 
houseboat and find transportation for themselves. 

Dark had completely fallen when they heard a 
tremendous roar, reverbrating and reechoing over 


DOWN THE RIVER 


193 

the forest far ahead. It was the steamboat 
coming from Mobile, but she was still miles away. 
They heard her powerful whistle again and 
again, and at last beheld a shaft of white light 
playing on the trees, shooting into the sky, like a 
small, brilliant aurora. It was the boat's search- 
light, picking out the intricate land-marks of the 
channel, but the steamer was still far distant, and 
it was not for almost an hour that she really came 
in sight around a curve a mile below. 

For half an hour they had seen her as a pale 
luminosity reflected on the sky through the trees, 
and she was an imposing spectacle as she swept 
around the curve, looking like a great white glow 
on the water, with the long dazzling shaft of the 
search-light shooting ahead. As she came closer 
they made out the red glare of her furnaces on 
the lower deck, the rows of lighted cabin win- 
dows, the glass pilot-house high over all where the 
steersman manipulated the searchlight. Her 
tall chimneys rolled out black smoke and sparks, 
and they heard the pounding of her engines and 
the ^'crash-crash" of her stern paddle-wheel. 

"She is n't going to run us down, is she?" ex- 
claimed Bob. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


194 

’ The houseboat was certainly a big enough ob- 
ject for the pilot to see. For an instant the 
search-light rested on them blindingly, then 
flickered away. The boat came on, blazing and 
roaring; she was going to pass several yards to 
the west, and would have paid no further atten- 
tion to the houseboat, but Joe snatched up Bob’s 
rifle, fired three shots in the air, and shouted. 

The search-light turned on them again, daz- 
zling, questioningly. The steamboat slowed, 
and somebody hailed them roughly. 

‘We want a tow !” Joe yelled. 

He knew that these river boats would carry 
anything or tow anything that they were paid 
for. There was a little delay, and then the steamer 
sheered over toward them. They could see the 
black, interested faces of the roustabouts along 
the rail, and somebody threw a heavy rope. The 
houseboat jarred against the steamer’s side, and 
the hawser was pulled tight. On account of the 
stern-wheel, towing had to be done alongside and 
not astern. 

Joe stepped aboard the steamer, edged through 
piles of freight on the lower deck, and made his 
way to the forward stairway, intending to inter- 


DOWN THE RIVER 


195 

view the captain. There were very few pas- 
sengers aboard, and at the top of the stairway 
almost the first face he saw was a most familiar 
one. 

‘'Mr. Burnam he exclaimed. 

“Why, Joe Marshall returned the turpentine 
operator, in equal surprise. “What on earth are 
you doing here ? T aken to house-boating ? And 
whatever have you been doing to yourself?'* 
gazing at Joe's tattered and muddy clothing. 

“This is n't my houseboat," said Joe. “I want 
to get towed to the next landing and leave it 
there. 

He looked at his late employer with some 
doubt, remembering their most recent encounters, 
but Burnam's face expressed the greatest friend- 
liness. 

“Give this boat a tow to Dixie Landing, 
Captain Andrews," he said to the steamboat 
captain, who had come up behind them. “You 
can charge it up to me. I 'm mighty glad I ran 
across you, Joe," he continued. “I wanted to see 
you. Come with me into the clerk's office, where 
we can talk." 

There was no one in the little den which the 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


196 

boat clerk used for his business, and the two es- 
tablished themselves there and shut the door. 
The steamer got under way again, with the house- 
boat hitched alongside. By looking out the win- 
dow, Joe could see Bob and Sam in the electric 
light, still aboard the captured craft. 

‘‘Morris told me all about your leaving,’’ Bur- 
nam began, with a smile. “Reckon I don’t blame 
you much. But I don’t remember anything 
about jumping on you and firing you the night of 
the iire. I do things like that sometimes when I 
get excited, and I sure was excited that night. 
I ’d have fired anybody sooner than you. You ’ll 
just have to forget it.” 

“Why, I — of course!” Joe stammered, taken 
aback by this frankness. 

“Now I ’ve just been down to Mobile to see 
about getting a new retort for the still,” the tur- 
pentine man went on. “I find that I can’t get one 
inside of a month, and it ’s cost about double 
what it ’s worth at that. Nearly all my chippers 
have cleared out, too. The turpentine camp ’s 
going to shut down. 

“But don’t you worry, Marshall 1” he went on 
earnestly. “You have n’t got stock in the busi- 


DOWN THE RIVER 


197 


ness, you know. You 've got my personal note 
for your money, and none of Bill Burnam’s notes 
has ever been dishonored yet. I Ve made a 
contract to sell the timber off the river orchard, 
and I ’m going to cut it next winter. That ’ll 
clear all my liabilities and leave a handsome profit. 

‘'Now I wish you ’d come back and help us 
close things up for a week. In fact, I ’ll be using 
some men all the rest of the summer in the woods, 
and next winter you can help to manage the 
timber gangs, if you want to. Same wages, and 
I can pay off your note next spring; or maybe I 
could let you have a little sooner, if you needed 
any.” 

“Why, Mr. Burnam,” said Joe, nervously. 
“I ’ll come up for a week, sure; but the fact is, 
I ’ve been thinking of going into the bee busi- 
ness.” 

Burnam laughed. 

“Along with your cousins from the North?” 
he inquired. “Well, that ’s all right, Joe. Hope 
you make a big hit, and if it does n’t pan out you 
can always come back and get a job with me, you 
know.” 

“Look here, Mr. Burnam, I Ve got to tell you 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


198 

something/’ burst out Joe, whose conscience had 
been troubling him. Ve found — no, come 
along with me, and I ’ll show you.” 

He hurried Burnam down the stairs again, and 
over the rail to the houseboat, where the tur- 
pentine operator recognized Bob and Sam with 
astonishment. In the cabin Joe pointed out the 
four barrels of rosin, and rapidly told the story 
of his discovery of the ^^mine,” and its removal. 

''You ’re a wonderful woods-rider, Joe,” 
Burnam commented with a laugh. "It seems 
you can get rosin even out of the swamps. But 
I knew all about that old still in the woods. I 
did n’t know exactly where it was, but I ’d always 
planned to prospect for it, and dig up the rosin. 
It legally belongs to me, you know, the same as 
any other deposit in the ground, even if your 
grandfather did put it there.” 

"I was a little afraid it might be that way,” Joe 
admitted. 

"But you boys certainly deserve to have it,” 
Burnam continued, "after the wild chase you’ve 
gone through. You can have these four barrels, 
anyway. They ’re worth thirty dollars, and I ’ll 


DOWN THE RIVER 


199 

buy them of you now. I ’ll write you a check in 
the office. And if you can locate the rest of the 
stuff, why,” — he hesitated a moment, — ‘Ve ’ll go 
halves on it, and you can hold my half until my 
note is paid in full.” 

‘‘Thanks,” said Joe. “But I ’m afraid there ’s 
not much chance of my ever locating it. I expect 
it ’s all sold in Mobile long ago.” 

“Likely that ’s so,” Burnam admitted. We ’re 
a few weeks too late, I reckon. Well, come 
along and I ’ll give you the check for this, any- 
way, and there ’s some wages due you, too, that 
you may as well have.” 

Joe was richer by sixty-five dollars when the 
steamer reached Dixie Landing, a few miles be- 
low the River Island. Here they left the house- 
boat, tying it carefully to a tree, to wait till the 
owners should reclaim it. That black houseboat, 
Joe found, was tolerably well known along the 
lower river, and no one would dispute Blue Bob’s 
claim when he should come after it. 

The four barrels of rosin were transferred to 
the steamer, to go with Burnam’s next consign- 
ment. The boys remained on the steamboat also. 


200 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


Bob to get off at Magnolia Landing, and Joe and 
Sam to return to the turpentine-camp for the 
closing up of the establishment. 

‘T ’m going back to get Old Dick’s bees, you 
know,” said Bob with determination. 

‘'Of course,” Joe returned. “Wait for me, 
though. I ’ll be able to go with you in another 
ten days.” 

“All right, and meanwhile we ’ll get everything 
ready,” Bob agreed, as the light at Magnolia 
Landing came in sight. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE BAYOU BEES 

B ob created a sensation when he returned to 
the plantation with his startling story. He 
had left only the vaguest word as to where he was 
going, and Uncle Louis was growing alarmed, 
and seriously thinking of a search expedition. 
Carl was indignant that he had not been allowed 
to share in the expedition ; such a combination of 
pirate-fighting and treasure-hunting might never 
come his way again ; but when the excitement had 
subsided a little it was the discovery of Old Dick's 
bees that came to be the subject of interest. 

‘T can't imagine why you did n't count them. 
Bob!" said Alice with impatience. ‘^You don't 
seem to know anything about them ; and after all 
the time we 've spent trying to find those bees — " 
^‘You don't realize that the whole place was 
shoulder-deep with a blackberry jungle that 
would tear your clothes off," Bob returned with 
201 


202 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


equal impatience. could barely make out a 
few gums, but I know there must have been lots 
by the number of flying bees. Besides, we were 
hunting thieves. We were liable to be shot at 
any minute. I was n’t in a frame of mind just 
then to crawl into a thicket and count bee-gums.” 

'Well, we ’ll have to go right down there, and 
size the outfit up,” Alice stated. 

"Better wait till Joe can go,” said Bob. 

They discussed it again the next day. The 
season was drawing on fast. If anything was 
to be done with the bees that spring it would have 
to be done at once. The result was that Bob and 
Carl decided that, while waiting for Joe to finish 
at Burnam’s, they should make a flying trip of 
investigation, to ascertain exactly how many 
bees were there and what could be done with 
them. Alice made a violent plea to go with them, 
on the ground that she could judge the bees better 
than anybody, but she got no support and had to 
give it up. 

To save time, they took the steamer when she 
returned down the river again, three days later, 
and put Uncle Louis’s boat aboard as freight. It 
was late at night when the boat arrived at Mag- 


THE BAYOU BEES 


203 


nolia, and some time before dawn when they were 
aroused to be put off at the River Island. They 
got into the rowboat, pulled up close to the land 
and waited there rather miserably in the dark- 
ness for more than an hour, uncertain just where 
they were. 

Dawn revealed the low, swampy shores, look- 
ing monotonous and strange. Bob was still un- 
certain of his whereabouts, but they dropped 
slowly down the current and within half an hour 
arrived at the mouth of the bayou, which he rec- 
ognized at once. Up the slow-flowing stream 
they rowed for a quarter of a mile, and then Bob 
pointed out the gray outlines of the cabin on the 
rising bank behind the thickets. 

They drew the boat up and went ashore, Carl 
in a high state of expectation. 

''No doubt about the bees, anyway!’’ he ex- 
claimed. 

It was a warm, damp morning and there was 
a deep roar of flying insects all about the old 
cabin. The bees were beginning their day’s 
work. Black specks seemed to be streaming up 
from the budding berry-thickets, circling through 
the air, shooting out over the woods. A return- 


204 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


ing bee, black as ink, its legs laden with whitish 
pollen, alighted gently on Bob’s coat-sleeve, 
rested a half-minute, and then proceeded to its 
hive. 

^'Sounds like home!” Bob remarked, listen- 
ing to the humming wings. 

The bulk of the old bee-yard, such as it was, 
evidently lay in the dense blackberry-patch which 
occupied nearly a quarter of an acre. Probably 
Old Dick had kept his apiary here in a clearing, 
and the berry-canes had swamped it, as they al- 
ways swamp deserted land in the South. The 
stubs of a few small dead peach-trees rose above 
the jungle, but scarcely anything else was visible. 

The boys had come provided with strong prun- 
ing-clippers and a hatchet to cut a path into this 
tangle, and Carl reached gingerly into the thorny 
growth and began to cut. He had taken out a 
handful or two of the stalks when he leaped 
away with a yell, brushing frantically at his face. 
A host of bees had boiled up from a log on the 
ground at his feet, vicious and fighting-mad at 
the disturbance. 

Carl sheered away and got rid of his assail- 
ants, but he took the precaution to put on a bee- 


THE BAYOU BEES 


veil, and Bob followed his example, before they 
went any farther. The nest which Carl had dis- 
turbed was no ''gum,’’ but merely a hollow log 
which a swarm must have taken possession of. 
He gave it a wide berth, but a few moments 
later he came upon a real bee-gum, overturned on 
its side, but still tenanted by its inhabitants. 
About the same time Bob uncovered three hives, 
made of rough plank, standing close together. 

The boys had no idea of clearing up the whole 
berry-patch. They wished merely to get a view 
of the interior, and, once inside the thicket, they 
found progress a little easier. From a slightly 
elevated spot they were able to get a partial 
view. At least twenty gums were in sight. 
Some of them were made of sections of hollow 
log placed on end and covered with a board; 
others were tall plank boxes, which seemed to 
have rested upon board platforms at one time. 
Through the thickets they could dimly distinguish 
others, some standing upright still, many of them 
fallen on the ground, or leaning against one an- 
other. Not all had bees in them. Carl cau- 
tiously raised the nearest, peeped in, and turned 
it upside down. It was empty and weather- 


2o6 the WOODS-RIDER 

bleached inside and out. The bees had died and 
the wax-moth had destroyed every trace of the 
comb. But in spite of all losses it was plain 
that a great number of Old Dick’s bees still sur- 
vived. 

‘'Can you make any guess of how many there 
are?” asked Bob, confusedly. 

Nothing but the roughest guess was possible. 
They penetrated further into the berry-thicket, 
cutting away the canes, stumbling over logs, con- 
tinually assailed by the irritated insects. But 
for the strong veils and oiled gloves they could 
hardly have held their ground, for the bees were 
unaccustomed to man and were nearly as wild 
and vicious as hornets. The further the boys 
went the more it became certain that the old ne- 
gro’s apiary must really have been extensive at 
one time. Perhaps there had been more than two 
hundred gums. A space of fifty yards square 
seemed to be covered with bee-boxes of all pos- 
sible shapes and sizes, and now in every stage of 
decay. Some of them had fallen and become 
almost buried in weeds and rubbish, but the bees 
had stuck to their home, filling up the rotted holes 


THE BAYOU BEES 


207 

with great lumps and slabs of wax and bee-glue. 
Some of the plank gums seemed to be held to- 
gether almost entirely by the plastered propolis 
of the bees’ repair work; there were fly- 
holes at every point, and the Harmans regarded 
these edifices with admiration. They had never 
seen anything like it, and in the North bees could, 
of course, never survive a winter in such a hive. 
It was hard to make any sort of estimate as to 
the present contents of the apiary, but the boys 
thought that at least fifty of the old gums still 
had bees in them. 

''At the rate of six pounds of bees to the gum,” 
said Carl, "there must be three hundred pounds 
of live bees here which we can have for nothing. 
The dealers would charge us four hundred 
dollars or so for them. Then there must be a lot 
of honey in these old gums — several hundred 
pounds, probably, and certainly there ’s a lot of 
beeswax. We ean clear the whole place up, ship 
the bees North in wire cages in May, and the 
honey and wax ought to pay the expenses.” 

"So it should,” Bob agreed. "And just think 
what all these bees would do on the clover in 


2o8 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


Ontario next June! They ought to be worth a 
couple of thousand dollars, if it was a good 
season.” 

'We 'd have to camp here for a month or so. 
It would be quite like our first days in the back- 
woods apiary in Haliburton.” 

'T suppose we could fix up Old Dick’s cabin so 
we could live in it. Let ’s look it over. We 
barely glanced into it the other day,” said Bob. 

The framework of the old shanty was still 
fairly sound, being made of enduring cypress. 
But many of the boards hung loose from their 
rusted nails, and the pine floor of the little ve- 
randa was dangerous to step on. The roof, of 
home-made split shingles, was in a bad way. The 
door hung by one hinge, and the single window 
was little more than a shapeless hole. A honey- 
suckle vine clustered densely over the decaying 
pine posts of the veranda and was thrusting its 
tendrils through the window. 

There was but one room. A great deal of 
one end of it was occupied by the big, roughly 
built stone fireplace. There was the broken 
wreck of a bench in a corner, but nothing else by 
way of furniture, excepting a sort of cupboard 


THE BAYOU BEES 


209 


fastened to the wall, closed with a buttoned door. 
Bob directed Carl’s attention to the bees and 
honeycomb exposed on the ceiling. The insects 
were active that morning, crawling briskly over 
their combs, coming and going through a crack 
in the boards, and none of them offered to attack 
the boys, who watched them with interest. In- 
deed, bees will seldom sting when in a room or 
under cover. 

‘Tity we could n’t leave this just as it is ! It ’s 
as good as an observatory hive,” Carl remarked 
with his face a yard away from the mass of bees 
and honey. ''But the first time we had a light 
in here the bees would all fly into it. We ’ll have 
to cut all these combs off, and — ” 

"I believe this thing has bees in it too,” in- 
terrupted Bob, who was trying to open the door 
of the old cupboard. 

The door gave a little, and let out a trickle of 
brownish honey, and three or four excited bees. 
The insects buzzed about for a moment, and then 
found their way outdoors, and, examining the 
exterior of the cabin, the boys found a hole 
through the boards opposite the cupboard. There 
was a stream of entering and returning bees, and 


210 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


it was evident that a flourishing colony dwelt 
there. Returning to the cabin, they presently 
discovered still another colony snugly established 
between the inner boards and the studding of the 
wall. 

''Why, this place is full of ’em!” cried Carl, 
looking about rather wildly. 

"The more the better !” Bob laughed. "I ’ll 
bet anything there ’s a swarm somewhere up the 
chimney too.” 

The chimney was built up on the outside of the 
cabin, and made of crossed sticks heavily plas- 
tered with clay. Carl put his head into the fire- 
place and gazed upward. 

"You ’re right,” he said. "The chimney ’s 
blocked half-way up, and I can hear the bees and 
smell ’em. We ’ll never be able to get them out 
of that without killing them.” 

"Dick’s gums must have swarmed and 
swarmed,” said Bob. "Joe told me that the more 
swarms these gum-keepers get the better they 
like it. There must have been hundreds of 
swarms every summer, especially after the old 
nigger went away and the bees had no sort of at- 


THE BAYOU BEES 


,211 


tention. I expect they filled up every hollow tree 
within reach. It 's a wonder they did n't over- 
run the whole country." 

‘Why, yes! There must be lots of bee-trees 
close by here," Carl exclaimed. ‘T never thought 
of it, but let 's look for them. They 're just as 
good as the gums." 

They did not have far to look. Just behind 
the cabin they found a colony in a decayed stump, 
and another in a hollow gum-tree within twenty 
yards. Bob made the curious discovery of a 
swarm living in an old keg half covered with 
brushwood; the bees were flying through the 
open bung-hole. There were three more bee- 
trees a little way up the slope toward the spring, 
and down by the bayou they found apparently two 
swarms living in the same tree. 

“The woods are certainly full of 'em!" said 
Bob. “Very likely there are more bees around 
here in the trees than Old Dick ever had in his 
gum-yard." 

Carl stopped on the slope, surveyed the berry- 
thickets, the cabin, the jungly landscape for some 
minutes with an air of reflection. 


212 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


he said in a weighty manner at last, 
you think this is a good bee district? Lots 
of honey-bearing plants?'’ 

‘‘Yes, I should say so,” replied his brother. 
“When we went through the swamps the other 
day we weren't thinking much about honey 
plants, but there 's titi and willow along all the 
streams. . I know I 've seen hundreds of tupelo 
and black-gum trees. They yield honey in im- 
mense quantities, and will be blooming within the 
next six weeks. As for blackberry, you can see 
for yourself what a lot there is, and it makes the 
finest and whitest honey in the world. It 's just 
coming into bud. Why, what are you thinking 
about?” 

“Just this,” said Carl. “We can’t do anything 
with these gums in their present shape. We 
could n’t handle them : we could n’t drive the bees 
out into our shipping-cages without wasting as 
much as we got. We 'll have to transfer all these 
bees into new, regular hives anyway. Why can’t 
we transfer them, rear Italian queens for them 
all, and turn this whole wreck into a modern out- 
fit? Then late in May we can take a pound or 
two of bees out of every hive and ship them home. 


THE BAYOU BEES 


213 


and still leave a working force with the hive here. 
We ’d get a crop of honey here, and then another 
one up North. And we ’d still have the bees 
here, so that we could go on doing the same thing 
year after year, shipping a hundred packages of 
bees to Canada every spring till we had all we 
could possibly handle. What do you think?’’ 

Bob gazed at his younger brother somewhat 
staggered at this large scheme. 

‘'How about the cost of putting all that 
through?” he said at last. “We ’d have to have 
hives, brood-frames by the thousand, an extrac- 
tor, a regular equipment. And we ’ve spent more 
money down here already than we expected to.” 

“Well, we ’ve got cash enough to start with,” 
Carl returned. “Then think of the honey and 
wax we ’ll get when we transfer these gums ! 
Enough to pay for the new hives. Then there ’ll 
be a regular crop to extract before we ship any 
bees. The thing ought to cover expenses as we 
go along.” 

“Carl, you ’re a genius,” said Bob. “You ’ll 
either make us rich or wreck us. Most likely 
you ’ll wreck us. But let ’s explore this place a 
little further before we decide.” 


214 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


They circled about the old cabin more widely, 
finding two or three more bee-trees ; went over the 
ridge, and down to the lower ground where they 
examined the growths with great interest. Titi 
and willow grew profusely, as Bob said; but the 
bloom-time of these plants was over. There was 
a great gallberry marsh, however, a quarter of a 
mile from the cabin, due to flower in May; and all 
the lower ground was a tangle of the low, creep- 
ing, prickly dewberry-plants. These dewberries 
and blackberries were at present the most im- 
portant of the honey-producing plants, for their 
honey was of the best quality, and they would be 
the next to blossom. Tupelo and gum-trees grew 
profusely all over the wet land, and, as Bob said, 
it looked as if there was ample pasturage for 
several hundred colonies. 

They ate their lunch near the cabin, discussing 
the situation, and then, started to explore the 
bayou upwards. Carl was anxious to see the 
place where the river-men had refined the rosin, 
and it was highly desirable to ascertain if these 
unpleasant customers had left the neighborhood. 
Luckily the pirates had seen nobody but Sam 
during the affair, so that both boys felt there 


THE BAYOU BEES 


215 

would be no serious danger even in a meeting; 
yet they rowed up the muddy stream with great 
caution, and peeped and listened before they ven- 
tured to push through the fringe of drooping 
green that cut off the houseboat’s old moorage. 

But there was nobody on the shore. The 
mound of ashes was there in the circle of stones, 
but the big kettle was gone. The scraps of bur- 
lap strainers seemed to have been burned; the 
empty barrels were gone. Nothing was left but 
the scattered lumps of rosin on the ground. The 
houseboat men had evidently been trying to clean 
up all traces of their operations. 

It was a great relief to find that the pirates had 
definitely abandoned the place. Getting aboard 
again, the boys pushed a little way further up the 
bayou, which seemed to extend clear through the 
River Island and out to the old channel ; but the 
tangled, half-flooded shores were so melancholy 
that they presently dropped down the current 
again to the bee-yard. Here they moored the 
boat, and started to explore the lower part of the 
bayou on foot. 

The ground was higher here, and the walk- 
ing dry and good, though obstructed with black- 


2i6 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


berry, gallberry, and oak-scrub. They went 
down to the mouth of the bayou, then turned in- 
land and came in a circle back toward the cabin. 

The marshes and the strips of creek-swamp 
compelled them to take a most crooked course, 
and at last, tangled in the maze of morasses, 
they had to turn back to the river again for a 
fresh start. It was clear that they would have 
to keep to the ridges in future, and they were 
skirting along the shore, watching for a possible 
road inland when Bob suddenly stopped short, 
grasping Carl’s arm. 

Twenty yards in front a rough rowboat lay on 
the river bank. A man was stooping over it, 
either having just landed or preparing to embark. 
He carried a gun in his left hand, and he had 
neither seen nor heard the boys. 

^‘One of the pirate bunch?” whispered Carl. 

^‘No, I never saw him,” Bob murmured, after 
getting a good look at the boatman. ‘Tikely 
he ’s only hunting here. There’s only one 
of him anyway. Let ’s go up and see what he 
says.” 

They walked boldly out of the undergrowth 
and approached the man, who turned about 


THE BAYOU BEES 


217 

sharply as he heard them, straightened up, and 
watched their approach in silence. He was mid- 
dle-aged, bearded, and long-haired; he looked a 
typical backwoodsman. His clothing was faded 
to an indeterminate brown; he wore canvas leg- 
gings, and a canvas belt of shells about his waist, 
and he held his double-barrel across his arm. 

''Howdy called Bob, trying to adopt the local 
greeting. "Hunting?’' 

The man looked them over with an appearance 
of intense surprise and curiosity. Probably 
Bob’s Northern accent struck him as peculiar. 

"Naw!” he drawled at last, without much 
amiability. "Ain’t no deer nor turkey here.” 

"We heard it was a good place for game,” said 
Carl. "Do you live around here?” 

"Naw!” repeated the woodsman. "Don’t no- 
body live here, I don’t reckon. I lives ’way ’cross 
the river. Where do you-all come from?” 

"Oh, from away up North,” Bob told him. 

"I shore thought you was some kind of 
Yankees. Now what you fixin’ to do round 
here? You ain’t huntin’?” 

"Hunting a little — fishing — looking around,” 
Carl explained. '’We want to see the country. 


2i8 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


We're from Canada, and we never saw anything 
like this before." 

‘T would n't think you 'd ever want to see it 
again," said the man. He took a corn-cob pipe 
from his pocket and lighted it, and looked at the 
boys with a little less suspicion. ^^This here 's the 
wustest place in the hull state of Alabamy. Ain't 
no deer here, no birds, nothin' but snakes an' 
mosquitoes an' chills-an'-fever, an' alligators." 

‘Xots of snakes and mosquitoes, I guess," Carl 
laughed, ‘^but we have n't seen any alligators." 

'‘Heaps of 'em, when it gits a little warmer. 
I shoots 'em in the summer for their hides. But 
them ain't the wust. There 's wildcats an' bears. 
But them ain't the wust neither. Back yander a 
mile or so the woods is full of the raginest, pizen- 
est wild bees that anybody ever seed. Don't you- 
all go near 'em." 

"Oh, we've seen them," said Bob, smiling. 
"They won't bother us. We 're used to bees." 

"Used to 'em, are ye?" cried the woodsman. 
"Well, you ain't used to no such bees as these 
here bees. Nobody durst n't go near 'em. They 
killed a nigger once. He tried to rob a little 
honey off 'em and they done killed him. Yes, 


THE BAYOU BEES 


219 


sir ! Eat him alive, I reckon, for nobody never 
seen him again. The place is full of bones of 
hawgs an’ polecats an’ rabbits an’ mebbe bears 
that them pizen bees jest nachrally killed. You- 
all better not fool with ’em !” 

"Thanks!” said Bob. "We’ll certainly look 
out for them. What’s your name? If you’re 
around this way we ’ll see you again, perhaps.” 

"My name’s Candler,” said the hunter doubt- 
fully. "But you-all better not come by here no 
more. It ain’t safe. Nothin’ here but snakes 
an’ pizen bees, an’ they say there ’s some mighty 
rough humans in these here swamps, too.” 

Candler was rough enough himself, they 
thought, but he did not look quite like a river 
pirate. They bade him good-by and left him 
busied with his boat, while they retraced their 
path for some distance, and finally found a pass- 
able road up to the high ground again and back 
to the old cabin. Here they sat down to rest, 
and watched the "pizen bees.” 

They were not vicious that afternoon. There 
was a good honey-flow, and they were far too 
busy to think of fighting. A heavy hum and roar 
pervaded the air. Bees were coming down in 


220 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


streams, dropping heavily laden into the black- 
berry cover, streaming out again back to the 
honey sources in the swamps. Tired bees with 
great pollen-balls fell and rested on the ground; 
out of the cracks in the old cabin bees flew as if 
from a beehive. The sun shone bright; the air 
was hot and damp, and the boys sat for a 
long time in silence and watched their prospec- 
tive apiary. As Bob said, it seemed like home. 

'We’ll do it, Carl!” he exclaimed at last. 
'We ’ll build this old ruin up into something val- 
uable, and we’ll make a permanent fixture of it. 
It ’ll be worth a thousand dollars a year to us to 
have this yard to ship a fresh lot of bees and 
queens North every spring.” 

"Hurrah! Of course it will!” cried Carl. 
"Alice ’ll be tickled to death when she hears of 
this scheme. And it ’ll give Joe a chance to come 
in too, if he wants to. We ’d rather need some- 
body to keep an eye on these bees while we were 
up North.” 

Bob looked at his watch. 

"Let ’s get into the boat and start back !” he 
proposed. "If we ’re going to put this big job 
through, there is n’t an hour to lose !” 


CHAPTER XII 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 

LICE was, as Bob had predicted, ''tickled to 



1 Y. death’’ at the report and the plan that the 
boys brought back. 

"Could n’t possibly be anything better !” she 
exclaimed. "What a lucky thing we came South ! 
With a permanent apiary down here, we can ship 
bees North every spring, enough to stock a hun- 
dred fresh hives, until we have — oh, the biggest 
bee-outfit in North America. Old Dick is going 
to make us all rich !” 

"Maybe,” returned Carl, "but he ’s going to 
make us poor first. Have you considered how 
much it ’s going to cost to outfit this swamp 
yard ?” 

"The wax and honey we get from the old gums 
will pay for it,” said Alice optimistically. 

That was what they all hoped, but they be- 
gan to doubt when they made out a detailed list 


221 


222 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


of what the enterprise was going to need. They 
would have to take a complete outfit of bee-keep- 
er’s supplies, camp kit, and housekeeping out- 
fit. The latter, indeed, could be borrowed from 
the plantation, but the apiary apparatus made 
a formidable list, and supplies were advancing 
in price. They had been through much this 
same experience in their first venture in the 
North; but there they had purchased a working 
outfit, while this apiary would have to be rebuilt 
from the ground up. Nothing but the bees them- 
selves could be used. 

Lumber to make the new hives, however, was 
an easy and cheap matter in that lumbering coun- 
try. From a mill a few miles away Bob pur- 
chased dry cypress boards, cut and dressed to the 
proper width for the different parts of the hives, 
so that there was little to do but saw them into 
lengths and nail them together. 

But the brood-frames, ten of them to each hive, 
carpenter’s tools, smokers, a small honey-extrac- 
tor, wire-gauze, comb foundation, and the in- 
numerable small articles for bee work had to 
be ordered from Mobile; and they spent anxious 
hours over the dealers’ catalogues, trying to se- 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 223 

lect what they needed without spending* more 
than they could afford. It was going to take 
more money than they had brought with them, 
that was certain, for they had never contemplated 
equipping a brand-new apiary in the South. They 
had to send to their Canadian bank for more 
money, and while they were waiting for it to ar- 
rive they borrowed two hundred dollars from 
Uncle Louis. 

In the midst of this whirl of preparation Joe 
arrived unexpectedly. 

''There really was n't much for me to do at the 
camp," he explained. "Burnam was just keep- 
ing me out of kindness, and I cut it short. I was 
getting anxious to see those bees again. Are 
you going back to look them over ?" 

"We 've done been, as you say down here," 
replied Bob. "We 've figured it all out. We Ve 
got things started. Look here!" and he led his 
cousin to see the pile of bright new lumber for 
hive-making. 

^'Enough for a couple of hundred ten-frame 
Langstroth hives," said Alice. "We'll ship it 
down on the steamboat and make them up on the 
spot. We ve ordered about four hundred dollars' 


224 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


worth of supplies from Mobile too, and the boat ’ll 
bring them up to the bayou. The freight alone 
is going to be an item.” 

‘T can save you some of that,” said Joe, sud- 
denly remembering the old flatboat he had seen 
abandoned up the river. 

'T ’ll send word to Sam to patch it up a little 
and float it down here,” he added to his explana- 
tion. ''Sam’s been asking me almost every day 
when we-all are a-goin’ to go into the bee business. 
He ’s got the bee-fever bad. I told him I 
could n’t pay him any wages now, but he ’s bound 
to come with me just the same. He ’s mighty 
handy with tools and he can cook, and he ’ll be 
mighty useful to us; and if things pan out well 
I ’ll pay him something later. It ’ll only be for a 
couple of months anyway.” 

Bob thereupon outlined the new plan of a per- 
manent apiary that they had settled upon. 

"But I ’m doubtful about taking Alice down 
there,” he said. "It ’s dangerous — a regular 
hang-out for river pirates.” 

"Well, she ’ll be safer than any of us,” said Joe. 
"The worst of these gangs in this country 
wouldn’t molest a white girl. Besides, I don’t 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 225 

expect we ’ll see any more of the houseboat men. 
They ’re gone. They ’ve cleaned up their rosin 
deal, and they won’t want to hang around that 
place any more. Even if they did turn up, they ’d 
have no occasion to pick a quarrel with us. They 
would n’t recognize Bob or me ; they never set 
eyes on us. We won’t have anything they ’d want 
to steal, for they sure would n’t touch those bees. 
No, I think it’s perfectly safe; and there’ll be 
four of us anyway, all with guns. But I ’m 
afraid it ’ll be a rather rough proposition for a 
girl.” 

^'Not any worse than we had up North,” re- 
torted Alice. ‘T can stand anything that Bob 
and Carl can, and I don’t know how they ’d get 
along without me. They’d be lost! No, I’m 
going down with the rest of you when the steam- 
boat goes.” 

That would not be for nearly a week, and in 
the meantime Joe managed to get a message 
through to Sam, who was still at Burnam’s. The 
result was that a couple days later the negro ar- 
rived at Magnolia Landing in the old flatboat. 
He had patched it somewhat, but the old hull still 
leaked like a sieve, and Sam had navigated it 


226 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


standing knee-deep in water. But the immer- 
sion and swelling was already closing the cracks, 
and another bout of calking would probably make 
it nearly water-tight. 

Joe spent all day working over it with Sam, 
capsizing it on the shore, and melting rosin and 
tar. It still leaked a trifle when they had done 
their best, but wet would not damage most of the 
cargo, and they hauled the freight down to the 
landing. It made a full load, a regular ^^Robin- 
son Crusoe outfit,'’ as Carl said — the hive-lum- 
ber, odd-sized boards for repairs and making 
furniture, food supplies, cooking-utensils, the 
tent, bedding, tools, and weapons — and the new 
supplies from Mobile were still to come. 

don’t know about our not having anything 
worth stealing!” Bob commented as he looked 
at the load. 

Joe and Sam started on their voyage a day 
before the steamboat was expected, in order to 
arrive first with the supplies. But the boat came 
unexpectedly early; she passed the flatboat half- 
way down the river, and Joe waved back to his 
cousins leaning over the rail of the high deck. 
Bob and Carl were waiting for him at the mouth 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 2I7 

of the bayou, and they all poled and rowed the 
heavy craft up to the sloping shore where Old 
Dick's cabin stood. 

Apparently nobody had been there since their 
own last visit. The bees were flying freely. 
Alice had already inspected them and was eager 
to begin work. 

^'But the first thing to do is to fix up a place to 
live in," she said. ‘'And we can't do anything 
till we clear these bees out of the cabin." 

Carl undertook the job. Well veiled and 
gloved, he carefully cut down the combs of the 
colony hanging on the ceiling, so carefully that 
he did not shake off the clustering bees. As he 
removed them he placed them in an old empty 
gum, finally carrying it outside and placing it 
near the old entrance through the wall, which he 
plugged upi. By another day thq bees would 
discover that their old home was outside instead 
of inside the cabin. By removing a board he was 
able to apply similar treatment to the swarm 
lodged inside the wall; and the one in the cup- 
board was easily handled. He simply pried the 
cupboard off the wall without opening it and car- 
ried it outside. But the colony in the chimney 


228 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


could not be reached, and much against his will, 
he was forced to destroy it by lighting a fire on 
the hearth and smoking it out, afterwards poking 
down the combs with a stick. Most of the flying 
bees escaped, and the next day he found a dis- 
consolate cluster of them hanging on the outside 
of the chimney. Climbing on the roof he 
brushed them into a sack and poured them into 
one of the living gums. 

Meanwhile Bob had been nailing wire gauze 
over the window to make it bee and mosquito- 
proof, and he repaired the door. Alice set to 
work at the interior with the broom. Sam and 
Joe were carrying lumber and outfit up from the 
flatboat, and the hillside was a busy place. The 
boat was unloaded, but daylight ended before they 
had time to put things in order, and they knocked 
off work for that day. With Sam as assistant 
cook, Alice fried bacon and eggs and made corn- 
bread and coffee; they had brought butter and 
preserved peaches with them, and in the course 
of evicting the bees Carl had acquired several 
large chunks of honeycomb. It was dark and 
queer-flavored, and the expert apiarists did not 
think much of it, but Sam appreciated it hugely 



Apparently nobody had been there since their own last visit 





I 






# 


r 




> . 



V 


4 





4 


$ 




i 



4 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 


229 

and ate most of it in the retired spot where he 
went away to devour his own supper. After the 
meal was over he brought water, washed up all 
the dishes, and restored order. Negro labor was 
a luxury to Alice, and Sam enjoyed the situation 
no less. 

''Dis here ’s de life for me, Mr. Joe!” he whis- 
pered confidentially, sticky with honey. ‘‘Dis 
here bee bizness is a mighty fine stunt, yes-suh, 
it shorely is !” 

Alice made up a bed for herself on the floor of 
the cabin that night, and the other members of the 
party disposed themselves as comfortably as they 
could on the ground outside. By another night 
they expected to have things more suitably ar- 
ranged, and when the next day came to an end 
great things had indeed been effected. 

The cabin had been well cleaned out, with a cot, 
a set of shelves, and a rough table built for Alice’s 
use. Adjoining the building Sam had put up a 
large shed, supported by poles, roofed ingeniously 
with a thatch of pine-boughs, broad palmetto- 
leaves, and Spanish moss which he guaranteed 
would turn water. Under this shelter they 
stowed the miscellaneous lumber and outfit, and 


230 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


here, too, the boys arranged their own sleeping- 
place, counting that it would be cooler than the 
little cabin. Sam was berthed at one end and the 
white boys at the other, on rough cots of boards 
and poles, raised two feet from the ground to 
keep off the snakes and red-bugs. They were 
high enough above the bayou to prevent mosqui- 
toes from being very troublesome, unless a wind 
blew the wrong way. 

They set up the tent also, but it, like the cabin, 
was to be used chiefly as a shelter from rain. 
Even the kitchen was outside, an oven of large 
stones which Sam brought laboriously nearly two 
hundred yards, and Alice’s few cooking-utensils 
hung on the outside of the cabin. On the shady 
side of the building Bob constructed a work- 
bench, and as soon as the housekeeping arrange- 
ments could be rushed through they began to saw 
up and nail together the new bee-hives, with their 
covers and bottom-boards. This was highly 
expert work, for the parts had to be interchange- 
able and uniform to an eighth of an inch ; and Bob 
and Carl attended to it, while Joe and Sam under- 
took to clear up the ground and lay the old gum- 
yard bare to the sun. 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 


231 

In spite of his enthusiasm for the ''bee bizness/' 
Sam demurred at going into the blackberry- 
jungle where the old gums were hidden. He 
preferred to clear up the shrubbery and saplings 
about the cabin with an ax, and Joe therefore put 
on a veil and long-sleeved gloves, tied his trousers 
around his ankles, buttoned up his coat, and at- 
tacked the thicket with a heavy knife and a pair 
of pruning-clippers. 

The bees, however, were working so well that 
they were not much disposed to molest him, except 
when he accidentally stumbled into one of the 
gums. This was frequently unavoidable, and 
after half an hour of work he had accumulated a 
considerable following of cross bees that hung in 
a cloud about his head, trying to get through the 
net veil. Secure in his armor, Joe was able to go 
ahead, but irritated bees began to pervade the 
whole place. Sam was stung twice, but he bore 
it heroically, only shifting his wood-cutting to a 
more remote spot. 

As Joe cut away the thorny branches he raked 
them out and carried them away to a great pile 
back of the bee-yard. The old gums began to 
appear, showing how they had once stood in rows. 


232 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


but now irregular, fallen, rickety, rotten. The 
home-coming bees hovered in clouds overhead, 
failing to recognize the place at first. Joe did not 
find any bones of beasts or men, as the hunter 
Candler had said ; but about the middle of the old 
yard he did make a find of some value. It was a 
great iron kettle, partly buried in the earth, and 
half full of a hard substance resembling dried 
mud. He heaved it loose and carried it out to 
show the others. It was as much as he could 
do to lift it. 

''Just what we needed to melt our wax in!’’ 
exclaimed Carl. '‘We ’ll get Sam to clean it out, 
and if it does n’t leak — ” 

Alice was digging into the hard brown con- 
tents with a knife. 

"That 's what it 's been used for before,” she 
said. "This stuff is beeswax. This must have 
been Old Dick’s wax melter.” 

So it was, and the old kettle contained forty or 
fifty pounds of good beeswax, worth fifty cents 
a pound — probably the remains of the negro bee- 
keeper’s last "run,” and left behind by some 
oversight. 

When he came near the farther end of the 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 233 

thicket Joe made a less agreeable discovery. Dis- 
lodging an empty and overturned log hive, a 
snake glided out, a snake about four feet long, 
a sliding streak of yellow-brown with a checker- 
board pattern of black down its spine. It ran 
only a few feet, then piled itself into a heap, 
turned its flat head, and the tip of its tail sent 
out a swift, buzzing whirr. 

Joe stepped hastily back and retreated toward 
the cabin for a weapon. He did n’t want to let 
that snake go ; it was far too dangerous a neigh- 
bor to live. He did n’t wish to have Alice see it 
either ; but he beckoned the boys, and they had a 
look at the rattlesnake — the first they had seen 
— before Joe blew its head to pieces with the shot- 
gun. 

'‘Do you suppose there are many of these 
fellows about the place?” asked Bob, somewhat 
disconcerted. 

'T ’m surprised to find this one,” Joe replied. 
"It’s rather too swaimpy a region for rattlers; 
they prefer the high land. I don’t think we ’ll 
stir up any more.” 

He used more caution, however, in clearing up 
the gum-yard, but did not encounter any more of 


234 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


the diamond-backs, though he started two or three 
small, harmless serpents, which he let go un- 
molested. By the end of the day he had all the 
berry-canes cut and piled in an enormous stack 
at a distance, and the ground cleared of rubbish. 
He had also picked out and removed all the dead 
and empty gums, and for the first time they were 
able to see exactly what they had. 

There were seventy-eight gums containing 
bees, rather less than they had hoped for. But 
in addition to these, there must be almost as 
many more colonies living in hollow stumps and 
promiscuous places about the cabin, besides the 
bee-trees, of which there seemed to be an un- 
limited number. They did not care to establish 
more than a hundred and fifty new hives, and it 
was plain that the bees were not going to be lack- 
ing. 

Nothing toward transferring the bees could 
be done until the new supplies came from Mobile, 
and it was two days more before the steamboat 
came up. She arrived about dawn, and stopped 
off the mouth of the bayou, awakening the apia- 
rists by terrific blasts of her whistle. The boys 
dressed in haste and poled the flatboat down the 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 235 

stream, laying it alongside the steamer while the 
roustabouts transshipped the heavy crates. All 
the boat’s officers by this time knew about the bee 
enterprise of the young people from up North, 
and the boys received a good deal of good-natured 
jokes and chaffing when they went aboard to pay 
the freight. Then they pushed off; the steam- 
boat resumed her course with a parting shriek; 
and the flatboat returned with its cargo up the 
bayou. 

Alice had breakfast ready for them when they 
returned, and as soon as it was eaten they 
hauled the crates laboriously up to the shel- 
ter-shed. Without any delay they were ripped 
open, and the work began at once of nailing up 
frames. 

There were two thousand frames, each made 
of four small pieces of wood, and they had to be 
put together with eight small nails. Afterwards 
the frame must be strung with wire to support 
the honeycomb, and lastly filled with a sheet of 
comb foundation — a thin sheet of pure beeswax 
stamped in a pattern like the base of a natural 
bee-comb. Upon this the bees build their cells, 
saving wax, saving time, and producing a more 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


236 

uniform and perfect comb than if the insects 
were left to build according to their pleasure. 

There was work for everybody now. Every- 
thing that resembled a hammer was put into play, 
and there was an incessant rattle and tapping as 
frame after frame was nailed up, wired, filled 
with foundation, and put into the new hives. 
Five pairs of hands made rapid work, and as soon 
as a dozen hives were completely prepared Bob 
and Alice carried them into the apiary and 
started to drive the bees. 

Neither of them had ever done such a thing 
before. Gum hives are unknown where they 
learned their bee-keeping; but they had carefully 
studied the method of procedure given in the 
books and hoped for luck. 

Alice had unpacked and lighted one of the new 
smokers, and she approached the gum they had 
selected and blew smoke vigorously through its 
entrance hole. In terror the bees rushed inside, 
and, after waiting a few moments. Bob picked 
the gum up, set it a yard aside, and placed the 
new hive exactly where it had stood. 

With a hatchet he knocked the board top off 
the gum and placed a wooden box over it, made 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 237 

to fit closely. Then he and Alice began to blow 
smoke into the bottom of the gum and to pound 
on it with sticks and the hatchet. 

The bees within were fairly subdued with 
fright, and began to leave the combs and crawl 
upwards to escape the smoke and the drumming. 
In about five minutes a peep showed that the 
small box was almost filled with a clustered, 
frightened mass of bees, too demoralized to fly, 
and capable of being poured like water. Bob 
quickly dumped this cluster on the entrance of 
the new hive, and, after some hesitation, the in- 
sects began to crawl into the unfamiliar home, 
glad of a refuge anywhere. 

Alice meanwhile reached down into the gum 
with a long knife and cut out a large slab of 
comb containing brood and honey. This she 
tied into an empty frame and placed it in the 
hive, so that the bees should find at least some 
relic of their former home. While she was do- 
ing this Bob pointed quickly. 

^There 's the queen 

A slender-bodied insect, twice the length of an 
ordinary bee, had emerged from the mass and 
was crawling slowly and with dignity into the 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


238 

hive entrance. A stream of workers was already 
following her, and in a moment or two all the 
crowd of bees on the entrance board began to 
put down their heads and vibrate their wings 
rapidly, in token of joy at seeing signs of re- 
adjustment after the catastrophe that had be- 
fallen them. The returning bees in the air also, 
who had hesitated in wild consternation at seeing 
their old home gone and this strange edifice in 
its place, now began to alight and venture in to 
deposit their honey or pollen. 

^They 'll be all right now," said Bob with 
satisfaction. ‘They 'll start building on that 
foundation, and if the honey-flow keeps up 
they 'll be a good colony in four weeks. 

What bees were left in the old gum they 
knocked out without much ceremony, and Bob 
split the gum in two with the hatchet. Alice se- 
lected two or three good smooth sheets of comb 
containing sealed-over brood, presently to hatch 
into young bees, and tied them into frames which 
she added to the ones, in the hive. Then Bob 
carried away the wrecked gum and handed it over 
to Carl, who cut out the rest of the combs, saving 
out such as contained honey enough to be worth 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 239 

extracting, and throwing the rest aside for melt- 
ing into wax. 

Elated with their initial success, Bob and Alice 
attacked a second gum. But this on*e did not go 
so smoothly. The bees were reluctant to leave 
their combs an‘d go into the upper box. It took 
fifteen minutes of pounding and smoking to get a 
cluster of any size, and then they refused to stay 
in the new hive. They ran in and ran out again, 
took wing, and numbers of them detected their 
old gum and made desperate efforts to get into it 
again. Bob had to split the gum to pieces be- 
fore they could get nearly all the bees out of it, 
and there, almost by accident, they espied the 
queen, in a corner of the black, crooked combs, 
surrounded by a knot of her bees who would not 
leave her. Alice picked her up and placed her 
in the new hive, whereupon the commotion 
quieted down. 

The third gum proved very weak in bees and 
hardly likely to build up into a colony of any 
value. Then came several good ones, and the 
pile of cut-out wax and honeycomb grew rapidly. 

The carpenters meanwhile were preparing the 
new hives faster than the apiarists could use 


240 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


them. A great stack of the prepared boxes was 
ready, and the whole party turned in to help at 
the transferring. 

Carl and Joe worked at one gum while Bob and 
Alice treated another, and Sam, muffled in a 
heavy gauze veil, stood ready to fetch and carry. 
This made progress rapid. By the latter part of 
the afternoon forty of the old gums had been 
transferred to the modern hives, and the whole 
place was so overrun with irritated and confused 
bees that they decided to stop work for the day. 

The intention had been to put all these full 
honeycombs through the extractor; in fact, they 
had counted rather heavily upon the thousand 
pounds or so of honey that they were going to 
get from the gums. But by degrees it began to 
be clear that this was an illusion. The gums had 
less honey than they had expected, and it had to 
be cut out in broken bits and irregular lumps that 
the extractor could not handle. The honey was 
dark and dirty besides, full of crushed brood and 
sand and pollen. 

''Not worth bothering with,’" said Carl in dis- 
gust. "What'll we do with it? Unless we get 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 


241 

it out of the combs it ’ll make a mess when we try 
to melt up the wax.” 

“Can’t we-all eat it?” Sam suggested. He 
had been surreptitiously slipping lumps of comb 
under his veil all the afternoon. 

“Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll get all you can 
eat,” said Alice. “We ’ll spread the rest of 
the combs over the ground and let the bees rob 
it out. They ’ll carry it back to the new hives, 
and we ’ll get it just the same.” 

As long as the light lasted they worked at pre- 
paring new hives and frames for the next day. 
Even after that. Bob undertook to continue nail- 
ing frames by the light of fat-pine torches, but 
the flare drew such intolerable numbers of all 
kinds of nocturnal gnats, flies, and moths, to say 
nothing of bees, that he had to give it up. 

Honey seemed to be coming in freely the next 
morning. The new hives had recovered from 
their confusion and were settling down to work, 
making the best of what must have seemed to 
them a terrible catastrophe. The honey flow 
was so good, in fact, that the bees refused to 
touch the exposed pile of combs. When honey 


242 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


is to be had in the flowers, bees will refuse to take 
it in any other way; and Alice's plan of having 
the old combs ''robbed out" had to be postponed 
till the harvest was less good. 

That day they transferred all the rest of Old 
Dick's gums, and Alice looked with immense pride 
at the trim, modern apiary that had replaced the 
wreck. Another day cleaned up about thirty of 
the colonies scattered about in stumps and hollow 
logs. The honey flow continued strong. The 
dewberry was in bloom now, and the slopes were 
all white with the little flowering vines. From 
morning to night there was a steady roar from 
the bee-yard, and, looking into some of the first 
transferred hives, Alice found that the bees had 
built out all their foundation into comb. Already 
the queen had deposited eggs in some of it, while 
the bees were putting honey in the rest — thin, 
colorless nectar just gathered from the dewberry- 
blossqms. 

"At this rate they 're going to need top stories 
in a week," said Alice. "We 'll have to get a lot 
of supers ready. Maybe we 'll have to send for 
more supplies." 


TAMING THE WILD BEES 


243 

^‘Knock on wood/’ Carl advised. ‘^Every- 
thing ’s gone too smooth so far.” 

Alice refused to knock. The sun went down 
cloudy that night, and a breeze rose, blowing up 
from the swamps, and bringing hordes of mos- 
quitoes upon it. That was a distressing night. 
Alice was protected by the screened window and 
door of her cabin, but the boys found it impos- 
sible to sleep. Sam finally built a choking 
smudge of damp wood, and they all sat beside it, 
half suffocated, dozing at intervals; until to- 
ward morning rain came down in torrents. It 
drove off or dissolved the mosquitoes, and in time 
soaked through Sam’s supposedly waterproof 
shelter. They were forced to take refuge in the 
tent until the rain ceased shortly after dawn. 

It had brought a change in the weather. The 
wind had turned to the north; it was cool, and 
the secretion of honey had ceased. The bees 
were cross and restless. Shortly after sunrise 
they discovered the pile of cut-out honeycomb, 
and a riot of robbing ensued. The heap of wax 
was entirely obscured by the clouds of insects all 
trying to get at the honey. The apiary was full 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


244 

of flying bees, aware that honey was coming from 
somewhere, but not yet knowing its source, dart- 
ing toward the woods and returning, and trying 
to rob one another's hives. Excited with the 
plundering, they grew cross. The apiarists had 
to put on veils to cross the yard; and in the midst 
of the uproar Bob, happening to glance down the 
slope, saw a boat run up to the shore, and a man 
get out of it. He started up the bank, carrying a 
gun over his shoulder. Bob touched Carl's arm 
and pointed. 

‘‘Candler, I declare!" Carl exclaimed. 


CHAPTER XIII 
pirates’ treasure 

T hey all stared. It was, sure enough, the 
hunter whom the boys had encountered in 
their exploration of the island. 

''He ’s coming to see us !” Bob exclaimed. 
"He ’ll get stung to death if he walks up here like 
that.” 

"Stop him !” cried Alice, and they all ran down 
the slope toward the visitor, gesticulating and 
calling to him to go back. 

Candler had already heard the tremendous roar 
of wings and had stopped uncertainly. At that 
moment a bee dashed into his face, and he jumped 
back brushing frantically. 

"Don’t come any further, Mr. Candler!” Carl 
shouted. "Wait — we ’ll give you a veil.” 

Candler had got rid of his bee. He backed 
away a little, looking savagely at the veiled faces. 
He seemed to regard Alice with amazement, then 
245 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


246 

he scowled at Bob and Carl, recognizing their 
features at last through the black net. 

'T done told you-all not to come round here no 
more he growled. 

His temper was evidently much ruffled, but 
Carl laughed. 

''Did n’t get stung, did you?” he said. "I know 
you warned us, but bees don’t hurt us. That ’s 
our trade.” 

The hunter snorted contemptuously. He gazed 
up at the rows of new hives that had replaced 
Dick’s old apiary. 

"Them bees won’t stay in them patent gums of 
yourn,” he said. "Them ’s wild bees. And them 
bees don’t belong to you-all noways. You ain’t 
got no right to ’em.” 

"Yes, we arranged all that with the people who 
own the land,” said Bob. 

"They don’t own ’em neither. Me and my 
partners bought ’em from Old Dick’s family. 
We ’re fixin’ to melt ’em up for the beeswax. 
You-all did n’t ought to done nothing till you 
found out who them bees belong to. Now you ’ll 
have to git.” 

The young apiarists looked at o-ne another for 


PIRATES’ TREASURE 


M7 

a moment in silent amazement. Evidently Can- 
dler was affected by something more than the 
irritation Of being stung. He had come to give 
them notice. 

'Well, we ’re certainly not going to get 
out,” said Joe firmly. 'T ’m Louis Marshall’s 
nephew, up at Magnolia Landing, and these are 
my cousins. I know well enough Old Dick 
did n’t have any family. We ’ve got our title all 
fixed clear to these bees, and we ’re going to keep 
them.” 

"We ’ll see about that when my partners get 
back,” returned the hunter. "That ’ll be the end 
of this week. I ^m givin’ you a friendly hint 
now. My partners ain’t easy men to fool with, 
an’ if you ain’t gone by that time you ’ll wish 
you ’d never seen this here River Island.” 

He gave them another threatening glance all 
round and then turned and strode down to his 
boat. Getting aboard, he rowed up the bayou 
toward the interior of the island and vanished 
around a bend. 

"What did he mean?” gasped Alice, with a 
choke. "We ’re not going to lose our bees?” 

"Of course not. That fellow has n’t the ghost 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


248 

of a claim/' said Joe. ‘We got the outfit fairly, 
and nobody can run off with it." 

‘T don't believe we 'll ever see Candler again," 
said Carl. “He saw that we had something val- 
uable, and he tried to bluff us out of it." 

“But he spoke of partners. You don't suppose 
he 's one of the river gang after all, do you, 
Joe?" asked Bob. 

Joe thought decidedly not. Bees were about 
the last thing the river pirates would ever try to 
steal. 

“I think it was only a bluff, as Carl says," he 
reassured. “Don't let him scare you, Alice. 
We 'll see the thing through." 

They walked back to the cabin, encouraging 
each other, yet without recovering confidence. 
Candler's attack had been startlingly unexpected. 
They had imagined themselves free from any 
sort of human intrusion, for by this time they 
had almost ceased to think of the river pirates. 
Now the whole swampy wilderness took on an 
air of danger. They hung about the cabin, listen- 
ing to the roar and riot of the bees, nervously on 
the alert, in spite of the confident and cheerful 
things they kept saying. 


PIRATES* TREASURE 


149 

The uproar of the bees died down with evening. 
The combs of honey had been licked out perfectly 
dry. As it grew dark Bob and Joe climbed to 
the highest point of the ridge and looked over the 
swamps in every direction in search for the glow 
of a camp-fire; but not a spark of light showed 
anywhere. 

The wind had gone down and there were few 
mosquitoes, but the boys spent a watchful and 
uneasy night. The next morning came up clear 
and warm. The honey flow from the blossoms 
had recommenced, and the bees were at work. 
Only a few inveterate robbers still hung about 
the pile of combs, looking for a last drop. The 
apiarists still were uneasy and tired after a more 
or less sleepless night. 

'Tet *s get to work!** said Carl, after they had 
lounged about uncertainly for some time after 
breakfast. “Nothing ’s going to happen. I *m 
going to melt up this wax.’* 

It broke the spell; they all hastened to take a 
hand in the operation ; and, once more engaged in 
doing sdmething, their uneasiness disappeared. 

Carl lighted a fire between four large stones, 
on which he placed Old Dick’s wax-kettle. As 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


250 

soon as the iron was warmed through, the con- 
tents came out in one great cake of solid wax, at 
least fifty pounds of it, a valuable haul. He set 
the kettle back on the fire and put in about ten 
gallons of water, filling it up from the pile of 
broken combs that the bees had cleaned out. 

By degrees this melted and frothed up in a 
yellowish, seething mixture of wax and boiling 
water, along with the innumerable cocoons of 
generations of bees that had hatched in those 
combs. Sam held a burlap sack over an empty 
barrel, and Carl dipped out this thin, hot paste 
into the sack. When it was half full he knotted 
up the mouth, and the two of them squeezed and 
pressed the soft contents between two boards till 
nothing more could be squeezed out. Then Sam 
emptied the sack of its steaming black mass of 
refuse and cocoons, now almost drained of its 
wax. 

‘"We lose a good deal this way,’’ said Carl to 
Joe. ‘We ought to have a regular screw press 
that would get every particle of wax out of this 
slumgum ; but it would n’t have been worth while 
to get one for this single melting.” 

Bob meanwhile had been filling up the kettle 


PIRATES’ TREASURE 


251 


a fresh lot of combs, and as soon as they were 
melted up Carl and Sam squeezed them out. It 
took all the forenoon to finish melting and press- 
ing that enormous pile of broken combs, and 
when they were done the barrel was half full of 
a black, oily-looking fluid, steaming hot still, but 
beginning to show flakes of yellow as it cooled. 

‘'Why, there must be hundreds of pounds!” 
Joe exclaimed, trying to tilt the barrel. 

“Wait till it cools. A good deal of that is just 
water,” laughed Alice. “You always get dis- 
appointed when you come to weigh the wax.” 

This active employment had quieted their 
nervous anxiety, and they ate dinner with a much 
easier mind. Candler had said that his partners 
would not come back till the end of the week. 
More probably they would not appear at all, and 
if they did there was no sort of likelihood that 
they would go beyond demands and threats. 

Carl kept anxiously testing his beeswax, but 
the cake was not entirely cool until the next 
morning, and then they had to break it to get it out 
of the barrel, which was smaller at the top than in 
the middle. The wax came out in three great 
lumps, with a great quantity of black, syrupy 


252 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


water. They had no weighing apparatus, but 
Carl happened to know that his shotgun weighed 
exactly seven pounds. On this basis he con- 
structed a rude pair of balances, arriving at the 
result that there were a hundred and sixty pounds 
of wax — approximately. With Old Dick^s cake 
they had more than a hundred dollars’ worth. 

The weather had turned hot and moist — ideal 
weather for honey secretion — and the bees were 
working furiously. Apparently the shock of the 
transferring had stimulated them to double 
energy. Looking into the hives, the boys found 
nearly all the new fraUies were built full of comb 
already and being rapidly filled with honey or 
brood. The ‘^pizen bees” were growing more 
accustomed to being handled also, and were less 
irritable than at first; but they were black and 
inferior stock at the best, and Alice was. impatient 
to begin to introduce Italian blood. 

The steamboat passed the next day, and Joe 
signaled it. He took out the beeswax, packed it 
in a box for shipment North, and himself em- 
barked for Magnolia Landing. Late the next 
afternoon he came back in Uncle Louis’s row- 
boat, bringing a sack of meal, a ham, and a quan- 


PIRATES’ TREASURE 


253 

tity of sugar and coffee; and while at the plan- 
tation he had mailed an order to a queen-breeder 
near Mobile to send a dozen Italian queens in 
care of the boat clerk. He also instructed the 
clerk to try to get a dozen empty glucose barrels 
from one of the Selma candy-factories, for it 
was plain that they were going to have honey to 
extract presently. 

Candler had made no sign during his absence, 
and the bees had been working heavily. The 
blackberry was coming into blossom now, and the 
gallberry would follow. There would be an un- 
broken flow of honey from one source or another 
for two months, and they began at once to prepare 
supers, or top stories, for all the strongest colon- 
ies, to give them more room for storage. 

By way of keeping Sam busy, they set him to 
finding and chopping down bee-trees — a task 
which suited him exactly. He cut six trees that 
day, and Bob was able to transfer the bees and 
part of the comb in four of them. The others 
were too badly smashed by the fall to be of any 
value; and on the whole they hardly considered 
bee-tree cutting a success. 

'We ’ve got enough,” Alice pronounced. "If 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


254 

we get any more bees, we ’ll have to order 
more frames and foundation, and we can’t afford 
that.” 

The next day was the end of the week, and 
they looked out with some anxiety for the return 
of Candler and his mysterious partners; but no 
one appeared that day or the next. Late in the 
evening the boat came down from Selma, bring- 
ing the empty barrels, which the boys paid for 
and landed, ranging them in a row back of the 
cabin. It looked like a formidable measure for 
the bees to fill, Joe thought. 

‘'Not a bit of it,” said Alice. ‘T expect we 
could get a couple of barrels right now, even 
before the supers are on. Only it is n’t ripened 
yet. We ’ll have to extract before you know it, 
and we must have things ready in time. I wish 
some of you would go over the cabin and make it 
really bee-tight. We ’ll have to do the extracting 
there and the floor is full of cracks.” 

Bob undertook this task, finding plenty of 
small holes in the wall that had been overlooked 
before. The floor was, as Alice said, in poor 
condition. Many of the boards were cracked 


PIRATES’ TREASURE 


255 

and rotted, and he undertook to drive them tightly 
together and nail th^ down. 

‘'Why, these boards are n’t even nailed !” he 
remarked; and a moment later he uttered a loud 
cry of astonishment. “Seems to be a cellar 
under this house !” 

“A cellar !” exclaimed his sister, who was look- 
ing on. “I always thought the floor sounded 
hollow there. Maybe there ’s an ancient treasure 
in it.” 

“Old Dick’s gold!” said Bob, raising two of 
the loose boards. There really was a deep, dark 
hole underneath. 

“There is — there is something there!” Alice 
cried excitedly. 

Indeed the hole was by no means empty. Bob 
could dimly see something like a pasteboard box, 
and he lifted it out and opened it. It contained 
two dozen pearl-handled pocket-knives, each 
wrapped in tissue paper as it had come from the 
factory. Reaching down again. Bob brought up 
an unopened box of cigars. 

Joe and Carl, who had been nailing frames 
just outside, were attracted by Alice’s scream, 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


256 

and rushed in. They all gazed at the find in- 
credulously. Sam too came up behind and stared 
over their shoulders, his eyes widening at the 
sight of the buried treasure. 

'‘How on earth did these things get here?’’ 
Carl ejaculated. 

"Just guess!” returned Bob, with a glance at 
Joe. 

He dived again into the dark hole. Two more 
boxes of cigars followed the first, then a large 
case of rifle cartridges, a ham in its canvas 
wrapping, and a box of cheap jewelry. As the 
litter accumulated the bee-keepers looked at one 
another with increasing amazement. 

"We must get to the bottom of this!” Bob ex- 
claimed, and he got bodily into the hole and began 
to throw the contents out upon the floor. 

There was a heavy, unopened wooden box, 
marked to contain two dozen cans of salmon, 
two sides of bacon, a little damp and moldy, a 
bolt of muslin, and a box of new revolvers. 

"Whoop-ee!” shouted Sam, unable to contain 
himself. "Ain’t dis de best yet? We-all kin 
start a store! Glory! Mr. Joe, dis here Old 
Dick’s cabin is shore ’nuflf one lucky place !” 


PIRATES’ TREASURE 


257 

^‘Yes, Robinson Crusoe never made a haul like 
this !” laughed Carl ; but Bob did not laugh. His 
face was dark and frowning as he groped after 
the hidden stores. 

It took some time to turn the contents of the 
^'cellar” entirely out, and then the cabin looked 
like a general store after a whirlwind. There 
must have been hundreds of dollars worth of 
merchandise of every description, from canned 
tomatoes to gold watches, nearly all in unopened 
packages, and in many cases bearing the stenciled 
addresses of firms in villages along the upper 
river. 

‘^What does it all mean?” cried Alice. ‘^Old 
Dick never put all this stuff there.” 

‘'Can’t you guess ?” said Joe, who had guessed 
already. “Warehouse thieves. River pirates. 
Blue Bob.” 

“That ’s it,” said Bob curtly. 

“Oh!” Alice gasped; and Sam’s jaw dropped 
at the name of the river outlaw whom he had 
encountered once. 

The Harmans had heard a good deal that 
winter of the depredations of gangs of thieves 
along the river, who had been robbing freight 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


258 

warehouses at the boat landings. Many of 
these warehouses are at uninhabited points on 
the shore, built of plank and protected only by a 
padlock, though occasionally containing valuable 
goods for a day or two after the steamer's 
arrival. Blue Bob and his houseboat men were 
reputed to have been active at these piracies, but 
they had worked so cunningly that no one 
could prove it, though ambushes and traps had 
been set. 

"That ’s it, beyond a doubt,’’ said Joe. "This 
must be where they stored their loot. You see, 
the bees were their guards. Nobody but a bee- 
man would ever have dared to come up around 
the cabin. They spread the word that these bees 
were man-eaters. They must have had to come 
up here at night themselves. It ’s the safest 
place imaginable. No wonder they did n’t want 
us to settle here !” 

"Then Candler must be one of that river 
gang!” Carl exclaimed. 

"Not a doubt of it. At least he ’s somehow 
connected with them.” 

"Well, what are we going to do about it?” 
asked Carl, after a dubious silence. 


PIRATES^ TREASURE 


259 

‘‘Le ’s pack all dis here stuff in de flat boat, an’ 
git away quick,” Sam proposed. 

‘‘And leave the bees? Not much!” returned 
Rob. “No, we must put all this plunder back, 
cover it up again, and never make a word or sign 
to show that we know it ’s there. If those 
fellows think we know nothing about the stuff 
and are going away in a month or two, they may 
let us go in peace. I think we ’d better ship the 
packages of bees a little earlier than we in- 
tended, and — ” 

“What ’s that? Listen!” exclaimed Joe; after 
a moment of tense silence he tiptoed to the 
window. 

The others crowded after him. Bob choked 
a startled exclamation. Beside the bayou a 
large boat was drawn up, and three men were 
starting up the slope. Candler was in the rear, 
and both Bob and Joe instantly recognized the 
man in the lead. So did Sam, for they heard his 
dispairing ejaculation. 

“Blue Bob! Oh, my golly!” 

Joe wheeled, sweeping a glance at the plunder 
littered about the cabin. 

“The worst minute they could have come !” he 


26 o 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


exclaimed. ‘We must n’t let them get a look in 
here. Alice, you must stay out of sight. Get 
the guns, quick. Don’t be scared. We ’re too 
many for ’em!” 

All the firearms were in the cabin, by good 
luck, and the three white boys picked them up and 
stepped outside, shutting the door. The in- 
truders were coming up without paying much 
attention to the flying bees, which were not 
vicious that day. The boys hurried down to 
meet them with the most indifferent expression 
they could assume, and Joe gave them a pleasant 
“Howdy!” 

Blue Bob did not reply to the greeting. He 
tucked his repeating rifle under his arm, and fixed 
a fierce gaze upon the apiarists. 

“You-all ain’t gone yit!” he cried harshly. 
“Well, you’re sure goin’ now, an’ right quick, 
too!” 

“What ’s the matter with you?” said Joe sooth- 
ingly. “You did n’t really expect us to leave, did 
you?” 

“We won’t anyway!” put in Carl, hotly. 
“We ’ve got a right here, and you can’t make 


PIRATES’ TREASURE 


261 

^^Hush up !” returned the pirate, with a violent 
thrust of his rifle-muzzle into Carl’s stomach, so 
violent that the boy doubled up, staggered a 
couple of yards, and tumbled. Blue Bob strode 
past him. Joe threw up his own rifle, but met 
Candler’s muzzle leveled upon him. 

‘'Don’t you start nothin’, now !” Candler 
growled. “Keep still if you* don’t want to be 
hurted.” 

The boys stood irresolute for a fatal minute. 
Blue Bob walked straight to the cabin, and was 
about to step upon the little veranda when the 
screened window-frame swung open, and Alice 
appeared inside. She looked white but deter- 
mined, and she was training her long target pistol 
straight upon the intruder’s chest. 

“Stop where you are !” she commanded. 
“One step f-farther, and I’ll certainly s-shoot!” 

The blue-faced man stopped with a startled 
jerk. He gazed in astonishment at Alice behind 
her pistol, and then broke into a short laugh. 

“Don’t shoot, ma’am,” he said. “I reckon I 
ain’t a-comin’ in.” 

He wheeled about, and walked back to where 
Candler and Joe were still glaring at one another. 


262 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


'Tut down your guns/’ he said. "And look 
here, you boys, you take that girl away from here, 
you hear me? This ain’t no game for women. 
If you fellers want to stay and fight us — ” 

"We don’t want to fight anybody,” interrupted 
Joe. "You started this. Look here, we ’re 
going away in a month or so, just as soon as the 
honey season is over.” 

"I reckon you ’ll have to git out quicker ’n 
that,” said Blue Bob. If it had n’t been for that 
girl we ’d have pitched you into the bayou to-day.” 

"We ’ll burn your cabin,” put in Candler. 
"We ’ll smash your boat. We ’ll turn you into 
the swamps to starve.” 

"We sure will,” the leader agreed. "You-all 
think ’bout it. We ’ll give you another chance, 
but if you ain’t gone when we come back by here 
next — ” 

With a last ferocious glare the river-man 
turned back to his boat, followed by the crew. 
They rowed down toward the river, and the boys 
watched them out of sight, and then returned 
triumphant to the cabin. Alice, pale but elated, 
still clutched her pistol. 

"You certainly saved the day for us, Alice,” 


PIRATES’ TREASURE 263 

said Joe. ‘That fellow would have been inside 
in another minute and seen all this plunder, and 
then it would have been all up with us. But now 
I do believe we Ve got them bluffed out, in spite 
of their ferocious talk.” 

‘T saw them glance at one another when Joe 
said we were leaving in a month,” said Carl. 

“That fetched them.” 

“Well, I certainly won’t leave until the black- 
berry honey-flow is over — ^yes, and the tupelo, 
too,” said Alice. “It means hundreds of dollars 
worth of honey to extract.” 

“Yes,” said Bob, grimly. “We may as well 
extract all we can — and then ship all the bees 
away, and melt u^) the combs into wax, and burn 
up the hives. For if we once leave here, we ’ll 
never come back and find any apiary.” 


CHAPTER XIVi 


UNDER FIRE 

T here was a half minute of dismayed 
silence at this pronouncement. 

‘T ’m afraid Bob ’s right/' said Joe. ‘Tf 
we go away from here those river pirates will 
surely destroy everything we've left and burn 
the cabin too, to make sure that we won't come 
back." 

‘‘But I won't give up these bees!" Alice 
rebelled. “We 've worked too hard for them. 
Melt up all these beautiful new combs ? Never !" 

But nobody found any comfort for her. What 
Joe had said was plainly only too true. 

“Well, let 's hide all this loot away," said Carl 
glumly at last. “We 've probably got a month 
to work in, anyhow." 

They restored the pirates' treasure to its for- 
mer hiding-place, and Bob nailed the boards 
down. Nobody spoke much; they were all de- 

264 


UNDER FIRE 


265 

pressed. They might have a month’s grace 
indeed; they might take off some honey and ship 
some packages of bees; but the notion of being 
compelled to tear all this well-established and 
valuable apiary to pieces, saving only the frag- 
ments, was bitterly distasteful to all of them. 

Alice had appeared lost in deep meditation for 
some time. At last she broke out, with an air of 
new resolution. 

'T ’m simply not going to give all this up !” she 
announced. ‘'Look here, why can’t we ship this 
whole outfit North?” 

“Well, we ’re going to ship what we can,” said 
Bob. 

“No, I mean to ship bees, hives, combs, and all. 
Ship the colonies as they stand. Send a car-load 
of hives of bees by freight.” 

They all looked at her in astonishment. 

“A freight-car holds three or four hundred 
hives,” remarked Bob, who had made a study of 
the different methods of shipping bees before he 
came South. “And the car would cost us four 
hundred dollars. We have n’t bees enough to 
make it pay — and we have n’t the money if we 
had.” 


266 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


‘Well, I Ve thought all that out,’' Alice argued. 
“As soon as the honey flow is over we could 
ship our bees on the steamboat up to the nearest 
railway point — Selma, is n’t it ? There we could 
split up each of our hives into three, and in about 
three weeks they ’d be built up strong enough 
again to ship. Then they ’d have a few weeks 
more in Canada to breed up before the clover 
came in bloom, and by that time they ’d all be 
roaring big colonies. Just think what three 
hundred of them would do on the Ontario clover 
in a good season ! Why, they ’d make three 
thousand dollars’ worth of honey at least. What 
if it does cost four hundred dollars to ship them?” 

The boys contemplated this dazzling prospect 
for a moment in silence. 

“I always said you were a genius and that 
you ’d either make us rich or break us,” Carl re- 
marked. “But this looks like a pretty wild 
gamble.” 

“So it did when we bought the bees in the 
North,” his sister retorted. “But was n’t I 
right ?” 

“But think,” Bob interposed. “It sounds 
good, but we ’d have to buy the queens for making 


UNDER FIRE 


267 

up nearly two hundred fresh colonies. No time 
to rear 'em ourselves then. And then in Canada 
we 'd have to have equipment for all these bees — 
supers for three hundred colonies, excluders, a 
world of stuff. A thousand dollars would n't see 
us through it. We simply have n't got the capital 
to risk — for we 've got to live ourselves, you 
know, while we wait for the honey crop." 

'^None of you have got any nerve!" Alice 
flashed, almost ready to cry with disappointment ; 
but Joe broke in with what he had been meditat- 
ing. 

'Took here !" he said. "When I was up at the 
plantation Uncle Louis told me that he 'd seen 
Burnam, and Burnam said that I could get four 
or five hundred dollars if I needad it bad. I left 
word for him that I did need it — and now maybe 
that 'll help us to put Alice's scheme through 1" 

"Oh, Joe, that's splendid of you!" cried the 
girl, with a grateful glance at her cousin which 
he considered worth several hundred dollars. 

"Not a bit!" Joe responded, flushing and 
slightly embarrassed. "It 's a business prop- 
osition. I want to invest. This apiary game 
just suits me." 


268 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


^Then we can do it!’’ Alice exclaimed. ‘‘Yes, 
and we ’re forgetting our honey crop here. 
We ’ll surely get fifty pounds to the colony. 
That ’ll come to nearly five hundred dollars by the 
time we want to leave.” 

“Yes!” cried Carl, “and we’re forgetting all 
that wax we shipped away, and what we ’ll get 
from the cappings when we extract. About two 
hundred pounds. That ’ll supply nearly all the 
foundation we ’ll need in the North.” 

“We do seem to have overlooked a lot of as- 
sets,” said Bob, “especially Joe. I ’d hate to urge 
you, Joe, but if you want to invest in the game, 
why, we ’ll all be delighted. But it ’s a risk, you 
know, and a bad season might run us all into 
bankruptcy right at the start.” 

“I know,” said Joe. “I ’ll take the chance. 
I ’ll bet it ’s no worse a gamble than turpentining. 
When ’ll I need to get the money?” 

“Oh, not for some time,” said Alice. “We ’ve 
to get our honey extracted here, and I must set 
to work raising Italian queens — just as soon as 
the breeding queens come that we ’ve ordered.” 

The council broke up in great enthusiasm for 
the big enterprise, and they all went back to the 


UNDER FIRE 


269 

bee work with renewed energy. Sam was set to 
work at cutting every bee-tree that could be found 
in the neighborhood, for, since the whole outfit 
was going North, every bee was precious. 
Meanwhile the boys nailed up all the rest of the 
frames and made up every remaining scrap of 
lumber into hives. Carl even proposed taking the 
boards off the cabin for hive-making. 

Luckily the queens arrived the next day, 
brought up by the clerk of the steamer — a pack- 
age of a dozen wood-block mailing-cages, each 
containing an Italian thoroughbred queen with 
her escort of half a dozen bees who fed her and 
attended her en route. Alice had several colonies 
prepared to receive them, and she at once intro- 
duced the new-comers to the hives they were in 
future to occupy. One of them was promptly 
killed by the bees, who sometimes make difficulties 
about accepting a strange queen; but the rest 
survived, and as soon as they had begun to de- 
posit eggs Alice began preparations for rearing 
more queens from this stock. 

Alice was no novice at queen-rearing, the most 
delicate and difficult branch of apiculture, for she 
had reared nearly all the Italian queens for their 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


270 

old apiary in the North. Within a week opera- 
tions were in full blast. Batch after batch of 
queen-cells, a dozen at a time, were secured by 
depriving a strong colony of its queen, producing 
in them an immediate desire to raise a fresh one. 
Each of these cells she ‘^grafted’’ with a tiny 
larva hatched from one of the new Italian eggs, 
and the prepared cells were then given to another 
colony to feed and finish. In this manner, with 
luck, it would not take long to raise enough queens 
to Italianize the whole outfit. 

During this time they neither saw nor heard 
anything of the river-men, and they made an 
attempt to go on with their work without thinking 
of danger. It was not so easy, for there was a 
perpetual strain of nervousness. The boys kept 
the rifles and shotgun always loaded and handy, 
and Alice took to carrying her pistol strapped to 
her waist when she left the cabin. As a further 
precaution they placed half a dozen of the most 
vicious-tempered colonies of bees directly in 
front of the door, and with the cabin thus envel- 
oped all day in a flying cloud of irritable bees, 
they felt fairly safe from attack. 

The river pirates were still on the island, how- 


UNDER FIRE 


271 


ever, for several times the report of a gun re- 
verberated over from the distant swamps. Ven- 
turing to reconnoiter in the boat, Joe and Sam 
even sighted their camping-place, on a dry bank 
nearly a mile up the bayou. No one was in sight 
about the rough shelter of bark and palmetto, nor 
about the almost dead fire, and the boys did not 
make a close investigation but dropped silently 
down to their own territory. 

Meanwhile the honey flow from the dewberry 
was over, and the blackberry flow was waning 
fast. The Harmans were disappointed in the 
result. Compared with their Northern experi- 
ences, the supers had filled up slowly. The 
Italian strain had not yet had time to tell, and the 
‘‘swamp bees” were inferior workers. 

“We Te not going to get half the crop we ex- 
pected,” said Bob, disgustedly. “Instead of ten 
barrels, we 'll be lucky to get three.” 

“But there 's the tupelo and black-gum bloom 
to come yet,” Alice said. 

“But we dare n’t wait for them,” Bob reminded 
her. “It ’s the last of April. The bees have got 
to be in Canada in a month at most, and we Ve 
got to split them up and ship them, besides ex- 


272 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


tracting this honey — and — and more things than 
I can think of/’ 

“Something’ll happen to bring it all right,” 
said Alice, optimistically. “It always does.” 

But, so far as the blackberry-honey was con- 
cerned, there was no use in delaying the extract- 
ing any longer. They would have to take what 
they could get, as Carl said; and fortunately the 
dewberry and blackberry-honey was normally so 
light-colored that they counted on getting a better 
price for it than for the later and darker honeys. 

The boys made a stand for the extractor from 
a couple of bee-hives, bolted and nailed it solidly, 
brought in two of the empty barrels, and knocked 
the head out of one of them for an uncapping- 
tank. They went over the cabin carefully, and 
closed all possible cracks where robber bees 
might get in, and late in the afternoon Carl 
brought in the combs from two supers so that 
they could begin work at once in the morning. 

They began immediately after an early break- 
fast. Joe had never seen honey extracted before, 
and he volunteered to stay in the building and 
turn the extractor, while Bob and Carl, veiled and 
gloved, went between the cabin and the bee-yard. 


UNDER FIRE 


273 

bringing in full combs and carrying out emptied 
ones. Sam stood ready for odd jobs, heavily 
armored against stings, and divided between ex- 
citement at actually seeing honey by the barrelful 
and alarm at facing a hundred colonies of robbed 
bees. 

Alice, as usual, had volunteered to do the un- 
capping. She took up one of the great, full combs 
of honey, sealed white and smooth as a board, 
and rested it on the edge of the uncapping-barrel. 
With the heavy, razor-edged honey-knife she 
sliced off the sealed surface, first on one side and 
then on the other, and handed the opened comb 
to Joe to put into the extractor. When four 
combs were uncapped he began to turn the 
machine, and the whirling reel slung the honey 
out in streajms against the side of the tin. Carl 
had come in with more combs, and he lingered to 
see the result, finally drawing off a cupful from 
the gate at the base of the extractor. 

‘'I thought blackberry-honey was water-clear 
he complained. '7^st look at this 

It was far from clear, being yellowish-brown, 
rather thin and not possessing any great aroma 
or flavor. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


274 

‘^Not much like clover-honey/’ Alice admitted, 
after sampling it. "‘Just a dead sweet. There 
must be titi and willow and all sorts of things in 
it besides blackberry. I suppose there are too 
many sorts of blooms at once in these swamps to 
get any honey pure. Oh, well, it ’ll bring ten 
cents in these days of high prices, so don’t make 
fun of it, Carl, but go out and bring some more of 
it in.” 

''Dunno what you-all grumblin’ ’bout,” said 
Sam, who had now secured the cup. ^'Dis yere ’s 
de bestest honey I ever tasted.” 

He swallowed the remainder of the cupful, and 
meanwhile Alice was uncapping a fresh set of 
combs. Little by little the honey accumulated 
in the bottom of the extractor. Sam at last drew 
it off by pailfuls and poured it through a cloth 
strainer into another empty barrel, which would 
serve as a storage-tank. Slowly the heavy, dark, 
sweet stuff crept up in this barrel, and it was full, 
with nearly a hundred pounds left in the 
extractor, when they heard the whistle of the 
river steamer down the stream. 

Bob took off his veil and went out hurriedly in 
the row-boat to instruct the boat to call on the 


UNDER FIRE 


275 


way back to pick up the shipment of honey. He 
had to wait nearly an hour off the bayou mouth 
before the steamer came up, and meanwhile the 
others stopped work. Now that they were fairly 
started, another full day seemed likely to see the 
extracting finished. 

Alice had to camp out of doors that night, for 
the cabin was sticky with honey, strewn with 
scraps of wax and crawling with bees that had 
been brought in accidentally with the honey. But 
they started work very early the next morning, 
skimmed the tank of honey, and set Sam at trans- 
ferring its contents into one of the shipping- 
barrels. When this was filled they drove the 
bung home and rolled the ponderous object with 
some difficulty outside the cabin. 

Extracting went on faster that day, but by 
night they had only two more barrels filled and 
prepared for shipment, and there was still a good 
deal of honey on the hives. In fact, it took an- 
other whole day to finish it, and at the end they 
had five barrels standing in a row outside the 
cabin. These held considerably more than three 
thousand pounds, though they had no means of 
ascertaining the exact weight. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


276 

‘Worth tnaybe three hundred dollars/' Bob 
commented, doubtfully, “with freight to be de- 
ducted from that. Not what we counted on, by 
a long way." 

“Never mind!" said Joe. “I'll try to screw 
more out of Burnam." 

The steamer would not return for two or three 
more days. She would carry the honey down to 
Mobile, and when she came up next she would 
leave a barge at the bayou mouth on which the 
bees would be loaded, to be later transported to a 
point from which they could be hauled to the rail- 
way. The days of the River Island apiary were 
growing few, but the really big enterprise was 
just about to begin. And it was an enter- 
prise for which they were quite inadequately 
supplied with funds, as they realized more than 
ever since the disappointing result of the honey 
crop. 

Alice was looking after her new queens the 
next day, with Joe acting as her assistant, and 
the others were variously engaged about the rear 
of the cabin, when with startling suddenness 
there was a heavy “thud!" close at hand, followed 


UNDER FIRE 


277 

by a distant explosion and an echo over the 
swamp. 

'‘Duck! That was a rifle shot!” exclaimed 
Joe, dragging Alice down behind the bee-hives. 
He heard an exclamation from Bob; then there 
was dead silence. He could not make out where 
the shot had been fired. He expected more to 
follow, and for some fifteen minutes they all re- 
mained close under cover. Then Carl dodged 
toward the cabin-door, evidently to secure a 
weapon, but he stopped short and uttered a 
lamentable cry of dismay. 

Joe took a chance, and went to see what had 
happened. One of the barrels of honey had been 
shot through and through with a large-caliber 
bullet, and it now stood in a great dark, sticky 
pool. 

“Plug it, quick !” Carl exclaimed. 

But it was too late. Down to the level of the 
bullet-hole the honey had run out, more than 
three-fourths of the barrel. Alice had hurried 
up, and Bob also approached, and they looked at 
the loss in anger and dismay. 

“Go around behind the shack, Allie,” Bob 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


278 

ordered. ''That fellow may shoot again. And 
we Ve got to protect these other barrels. Build 
a breastwork around ’em, or we won’t have any- 
thing to ship.” 

Expecting another shot at every moment, the 
boys dragged up logs and heaped earth to make 
a bullet-proof fortification around the precious 
barrels. But no more shots were fired at that 
time, and they retreated at last behind the cabin, 
leaving the honey protected. 

"I ’ll be powerfully glad when this honey gets 
away on the boat!” said Bob, wiping his brow. 
"There ’s another fifty dollars gone out of our 
assets.” 

"I ’ll be powerfully glad when we get this 
whole outfit away from here,” responded Joe. 
"Those pirates are getting impatient to have us 
go. 

They felt uneasy about exposing themselves 
during the rest of the afternoon. Carl took 
Bob’s rifle and ensconced himself at a good view- 
point, to give a return shot if another came. But 
all remained quiet until just at dusk, when the 
distant marksman tried his hand again. He 
fired six shots, and pieces of wood and spurts of 


UNDER FIRE 


279 


earth flew all around the honey-barrels, but the 
log rampart kept them from being perforated. 
The shooter was so well ambushed that it was 
only at the last shot that Carl detected the flash, 
coming from a clump of small pines three hun- 
dred yards away across the bayou. He retal- 
iated with one shot at the place but got no reply, 
and Bob dissuaded him from further shooting. 
A battle was the last thing they wanted just then. 

They spent a nervous night, taking turns to 
stand guard, but the sniper gave no more trouble. 
The next day the steamboat came down, consid- 
erably earlier than they had expected her, and the 
boys rolled the honey-barrels down the hill, into 
the flatboat, and poled out to the river. They 
came back after shipping the honey, reporting 
that the boat would be back in four days and had 
promised to leave an empty barge for the loading 
of the bees. 

‘‘Now if those pirates just let us alone for an- 
other week we ’ll be all right,” said Bob. “The 
honey ’s safely off, anyway. So much to the 
good.” 

The boat had also brought them a roll of wire 
screen, and they began to cut this into strips to 


28 o 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


be nailed over the hive-entrances for shipping. 
There was little that could be done with the bees 
now; Alice ventured to proceed a little with re- 
queening operations, but for the most part they 
could only wait for the return of the steamer. A 
heavy rain fell, breaking off the honey flow, and 
it was followed by chilly north winds. With no 
honey to gather, the bees were intensely cross, 
stinging viciously and trying to rob one another'3 
hives. 

A few days of peace had lulled their fears 
somewhat, but the next night Joe was awakened 
out of a sound slumber by a shriek in his ears. 
A red glare struck his eyes as he opened them. 

'Tire Carl was yelling. "It ’s the bee-yard 

Everybody was rushing out, half -dazed and 
in an uproar of confusion. A sheet of flame 
seemed to be driving right over the apiary, 
fanned by a fresh breeze. A second glance 
showed them that the conflagration was in the 
huge pile of dry blackberry-canes and rubbish 
from the clearing up of the gum-yard, which they 
had piled back of the apiary. No hives were yet 
afire, but the ones nearest the flames were scorch- 


UNDER FIRE 281 

ing, and the terrified bees were rushing out in 
thousands. 

‘'Grab the buckets ! Run to the spring, Sam 
Joe shouted, and he rushed up almost under the 
fla'mes, seized the imperiled hive bodily, and 
carried it away. Carl rescued another, as Sam 
came back with water and dashed it hissing on 
the fire, without much effect. There were only 
two small buckets and the spring was too far 
away. 

One hive caught fire before they could save 
it, and burned fiercely with a flare of beeswax, 
until a great gush of honey smothered the 
flame. Alice was throwing sand in an attempt to 
choke the fire; the boys, dashing in, moved hive 
after hive; but within a few minutes the liglit 
blaze of the berry-canes began to die down. It 
was like a fire of straw, and it went out as fast as 
it had arisen. Flame ceased to drift over the 
hives, and presently there was only a great glow 
of rapidly fading embers. 

“Safe, I guess,^’ said Bob with relief. 

“That was those men again!’' cried Alice, 
choking with anger. “I did n’t think they ’d do 


282 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


such a thing. They tried to burn up our bees. 
I wish we ’d shot themf’ 

‘T expect they thought the hives would burn 
easier than they did. We ’re lucky to have lost 
only one,” said Joe. ‘T wonder what they’ll 
start next.” 

They watched and listened nervously, as the 
remains of the fire went blackly out. But there 
was no sound except the hooting of owls from the 
swamps, the plaintive cry of a raccoon, and the 
uneasy roaring and rumbling of the disturbed 
bees. But none of the young apiarists felt like 
sleeping any more. 

‘T ’m hungry,” said Carl. 'These midnight 
alarms are wearing on the system.” 

They were all hungry, and they ate cold corn- 
bread and cold rabbit and drank coffee before 
finally lying down to rest once more. Twice Joe 
imagined he heard some suspicious sound during 
the night, and crept out with his rifle; but both 
alarms proved false. It was a badly broken 
night for the bee-keepers, and they were all tired 
and heavy-eyed and inclined to be nervous and 
despondent the next morning. 

There was a little honey flow that day, and the 


UNDER FIRE 


283 

bees were getting enough to keep them in good 
temper. But no work could be done with them, 
and their owners were all lounging on the shady 
side of the cabin, when, shortly before noon, a 
sudden outburst of firing rattled from the woods 
across the bayou. Two or three bullets thudded 
into the cabin; another perforated a beehive, 
and several more sang shrilly through the air. 
Then the fusillade stopped as sharply as it had 
begun. 

It had taken only a few seconds, and the boys 
could not detect where the shots had come from. 
Everything relapsed into hot quiet again, and 
watching was of no use. Apparently the shots 
had been fired without much deadly intent, but 
merely to terrify. Late in the afternoon there 
was another sudden volley of four shots, coming 
from a different angle, and aimed into the bee- 
yard, and ceasing before they had time to make 
out even a puff of smoke. 

'They Te not trying to hit us — only to scare 
us,’’ said Joe. "Nothing to do but just stand it. 
We ’ll be gone in a few days now. What I ’m 
most afraid of is that they ’ll burn the cabin one 
of these nights.” 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


284 

danger of that. Remember, all their 
plunder is stored here,” said Alice, wisely. 

This was a fact, and a comforting one. 
Nevertheless they had no idea of sleeping un- 
guarded that night, and Carl volunteered to 
stand sentry till imidnight, when he would call 
Bob, who would in turn be relieved by Joe. They 
all remained awake later than usual, and it was 
almost ten o’clock when Carl took up his solitary 
position, sitting on one of the superfluous honey- 
barrels, his shotgun across his knees, where he 
could command both the cabin and the bee-yard. 
There was faint light from the crescent moon, but 
the air was full of silvery mist, lying heavily in 
the hollows of the swamps and on the bayou. 

Except for the intermittent, customary noises 
of wild life from the woods, an hour passed in 
quiet. Carl walked around the cabin once or 
twice, returned to his place, looked at his watch. 
It was somewhat past eleven o’clock when he 
caught a faint, unmistakable dip and splash from 
the stream. His heart jumped. He made it 
out again, and thought he even heard a low sound 
of voices. A boat was coming down the bayou. 

Instantly he wakened the other boys. With 


UNDER FIRE 


285 

intermittent, excited whispering they listened, 
and then disposed themselves behind the tree- 
clumps in front of the cabin, with guns cocked 
and each of them strung up to hair-trigger pitch. 

The boat came opposite. They could distinctly 
hear the low mutter of gruff voices, but the mist 
concealed it entirely from view. The boys ex- 
pected to hear a landing made; but the rowers 
went past without stopping. The splash of oars 
and the voices died down in the distance, going 
out toward the river. 

''Why, they Te not coming here Bob whis- 
pered, in amazement. 

The boat had gone out of hearing. The boys 
were astonished and almost disappointed, after 
being keyed up to the point of fighting the thing 
out at last. 

"Maybe they ’ll come back,” Carl suggested. 

But, though they waited in keen expectation 
for an hour, nothing more was heard. Toward 
one o’clock they attempted to resume their rest, 
with Bob on guard. When he called Joe at three 
o’clock all had been quiet, and Joe finished the 
night without disturbance. The boat had not re- 
turned up the bayou. 


286 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


Alice had slept through it all, and had to be 
given the whole sensational story when she 
appeared the next morning. 

‘Terhaps they’ve gone for good!” she ex- 
claimed. ^'Or maybe they ’ve started on one of 
their plundering expeditions. All that shooting 
and burning was just to terrorize us — to keep us 
intimidated till they get back.” 

‘The boat ’ll leave the barge here to-day, if 
she ’s on time,” said Joe. “What luck if they 
did n’t get back till we had the bees all moved, 
and they ’d come back to find the place empty 1” 
“Too good to be true I” Bob commented. “I ’d 
give a good deal to have them stay away for a 
week just now. But we don’t know that they ’ve 
really gone anywhere. They may have got back 
to their camp through some other channel in the 
swamps — most likely they have.” 

At any rate, that day passed without any 
attack, and late in the afternoon the steamboat 
did come up the river, and left the great, flat- 
bottomed barge moored to a tree at the mouth of 
the bayou. The barge would easily carry the 
whole apiary. The bees would have to be taken 


UNDER FIRE 


287 

down to it by means of their own flatboat, a 
dozen at a time, but there was no hurry about 
beginning this task. The steamer would not be 
back for four days, and the bees must not be 
kept shut up in the hives an hour longer than 
necessary. The loading could be done in a 
single day, and it would be time enough to begin 
in two or three days more. 

It would be a simple matter, provided they 
were not molested in the operation, and the 
problem of whether their enemies had really gone 
away temporarily was a most important one. It 
grew to weigh upon them so heavily that they 
decided at last to solve it; and Joe, Bob, and Sam 
started in the boat upon a reconnoitering trip up 
the bayou. 

Half a mile from the apiary they turned aside 
into the smaller channel they had followed before, 
and within another half-mile they came in sight 
of the camping-ground of the pirates that they 
had seen from a distance. Nobody was in sight; 
and they ventured to land with great precaution 
and with weapons ready. 

But the camp was really deserted. There had 


288 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


been no fire for at least twenty-four hours, and 
not a particle of any sort of outfit was left about 
the palmetto shelter. 

''Looks as if they Ve really gone,’' said Bob 
delightedly. 

"Whar you reckon dey ’ve left dat old house- 
boat?” queried Sam. "You reckon dey ever got 
it back?” 

"You can bet they did!” Joe returned. "I 
expect it ’s hidden somewhere in these swamps. 
Maybe that ’s where the gang has gone, in fact.” 

"You don’t suppose they ’ve put it back in the 
place where we located it before?” said Bob. 

It seemed hardly likely. However, after a 
careful but fruitless search all over the deserted 
camp, they paddled back through the swampy, 
stagnant channel, back to the main bayou, and 
proceeded further upwards. They were sharply 
on the lookout all the way, and when at last they 
came to the screen of dense branches and vines 
that almost curtained the water, they parted the 
greenery cautiously and peered through. 

But that well-hidden nook held no houseboat 
this time. Pushing ahead, they landed on the 
shore where they had found the outfit for melting 


UNDER FIRE 


289 

down the rosin. Nothing was left of it now but 
a stray scrap of rosin-soaked burlap, and a spot 
of ash where the kettle had stood. 

‘Xooks as if nobody had been here since,” Joe 
commented, looking about. 

There was a heavily-worn place on a tree 
where the hawser of the houseboat must have 
been tied up many times, but there were no fresh 
foot-marks about the place, and no sign of any- 
body having visited it recently. They beat about 
through the dense thickets, however, in all 
directions back from the water. They found 
nothing except an old shovel that might have 
been lying there for weeks; Joe and Bob were 
already turning back to the boat, feeling more 
secure than they had felt for many days, when 
Sam stopped them with a cry. 

He had pushed further back among the titi- 
thicket, and was now standing still, his head 
thrown back, sniffing the air like a hound. 

''Mr. Joe!” he exclaimed, "I shore does smell 
rosin!” 


CHAPTER XV 

THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 

T his was exactly what Sam had said when 
they had arrived here before. He had been 
right then, but now Joe laughed. 

*T reckon not, Sam,’’ he said. 'That rosin ’s 
far away from here.” 

'T dunno,” Sam muttered, still snifhng. He 
pushed forward into the dense shrubbery, poked 
about a few minutes, and then uttered a loud 
yell. Before the boys could turn back he 
emerged, trundling a battered wheelbarrow, 
caked with dirty rosin — the identical wheel- 
barrow that Joe had discovered in the river 
orchard. He recognized it at once. 

"But this was n’t much to smell, Sam. Can’t 
you do better than that?” laughed Bob. "Not 
much rosin on this.” 

"Dis here was n’t what I done smelt — no suh, 

290 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 291 

Mr. Bob/^ replied the negro. ^^Smelt somethin’ 
heap powerfuler ’n dis — ^yes-suh.” 

He sniffed again, growing serious and intent. 
Neither of the white boys could smell anything, 
but a negro sometimes has wonderful olfactories. 
Sam dived into the thicket again; they could 
hear him crashing about, out of sight. A long, 
green whip-snake bolted from his feet. He 
penetrated deeper, stopped, threshed about for a 
minute, and then they heard him calling in a 
startled voice: 

^^Mr. Joe, come dis way! Come ’long quick!” 

The boys rushed after him, tearing through 
the dense tangle of shrubs and interlacing vines. 
Sam stood with his head thrust into a particularly 
dense thicket of tall, close-growing titi-shrubs, 
and the boys parted the shrubs and looked also. 

To their astonishment, the thicket was hollow. 
The whole interior of it had been cut out, and the 
open space was occupied by a great mound of 
rubbish — ^the lopped-off shrubs, leaves, vines, 
palmetto-tops, partly dead, partly showing still 
green. 

''What on earth?” Bob muttered, puzzled. 

But Joe, with an energetic exclamation, 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


292 

plunged forward and flung the cut branches 
aside. A piny smell came out. A cascade of 
brown lumps rattled down, great fragments of 
brown and amber, caked with bark and pine- 
needles. 

‘The rosin, by jingo!” Joe shouted. 

“Whoop-ee, Mr. Joe! Told you I smelt it;” 
shrieked Sam. “Knew we ’d fin^ dat ole rosin 
one of dese days !” 

“Found it, sure enough !” Bob exclaimed, 
scarcely less excited. “But, gracious, what a 
lot!” 

The interior of the thicket must have been 
thirty feet square, and it was heaped up with the 
masking layer of chopped shrubs and creepers. 
The boys poked into it at different points, and 
found rosin everywhere. There was no delu- 
sion this time. Here were the whole contents of 
the river orchard “mine,” the rosin from the old 
Marshall distillery, come back to the descendants 
of the family at last. 

“I knowed we 'd find it !” Sam exulted. “I 
ain’t said nothin’, but I knowed we ’d find dat 
rosin. You done said you ’d give me a thousand 
dollars if we got ten thousand dollars’ worf. 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 293 

Don't you reckon dey 're*a thousand barrels dere, 
Mr. Joe?" 

''You deserve it, for we 'd never have found it 
but for you," said Joe. "But there isn 't a 
thousand barrels there — nothing like it. There 
sure is an enormous lot, though. Now this sets 
us safe," he added, turning to Bob. "Burnam 
said he 'd go halves with me on it. He never 
thought then that I 'd locate it, and neither did 
I. But he 'll let me handle his half too — I know 
he will — as an advance on what he owes me. 
This saves the bee speculation. Hurrah!" 

"Look here, Joe, we can't let you risk all this 
— " Bob began. 

"Nonsense! I want to buy into this bee 
game," Joe laughed. It 's the best investment I 
know. Besides, this stuff really belongs to you, 
I reckon, as much as it does to me. It was your 
grandfather, too, that made it. But how are 
we going to get away with it? Suppose Blue 
Bob's boat came up the bayou this minute !" 

"Oh, lordy!" Sam muttered. 

"Let's cover it up again and get away," Bob 
suggested. "We'll talk it over. But you bet 
we 'll get it out somehow." 


294 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


They carefully replaced the covering of brush 
and leaves upon the pile of rosin, and retreated, 
taking pains to efface their traces as far as 
possible. Once in the boat again, they made 
all speed back to the apiary; they dreaded at 
every turning to encounter the returning river- 
men, and they were intensely relieved when they 
reached the old cabin without seeing any one or 
being seen. 

Alice and Carl were waiting anxiously for 
them, and they poured out the news of their dis- 
covery — news of such importance that it tempo- 
rarily swamped every other interest. 

^'Oh, Joe! It 's splendid of you to want to put 
all that into the bees Y' Alice exclaimed. ‘T feel 
as if we should n’t let you, but I can’t resist the 
temptation.” 

‘'Don’t worry. You could n’t hinder me. 
But remember, we have n’t got it yet,” Joe re- 
turned. “Those men might come back at any 
moment.” 

“Evidently they ’ve had it here all this time,’^ 
said Bob. “We might have found it the first 
time we struck that place if we ’d had more time 
to look. We thought they ’d finished melting up 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 295 

the rosin, but they must have only commenced. 
They did n’t dare to do it while we Ve been 
here, so they covered it up and hid it. No 
wonder they Ve been in a hurry for us to move !” 

''But can we sell the stuff in the rough, just 
as it is?” Carl asked. 

‘'Oh, yes,” Joe assured him. "Of course, we 
would n’t get quite so much as if it were refined, 
but any turpentine-camp will buy it. We might 
send it to Harper’s camp about half-way down 
to Mobile. I know Harper, and he ’ll treat us 
right-on it.” 

"But how ’ll we get it there?” Carl exclaimed. 

This was the crux of the question. For some 
moments there was silence, while they pondered. 

"I ’ve been thinking of that,” said Joe, slowly. 
"So far as I can see, the only way will be to 
load it into that barge down by the river and 
have the steamboat take it when she comes back.” 

"Ship the rosin instead of the bees?” cried 
Alice. 

"Well, that rosin may be worth three or four 
thousand dollars,” Joe argued. "The bees 
are n’t worth half that. Besides, we ’ve got to 
seize our chance while those pirates are away 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


296 

Even if they came back we could still ship the 
bees. The chances are that they won't trouble 
to dig into that rosin heap till they know we 're 
gone. If we ship the bees first and have to wait 
for the boat to come back, I don't believe we 'd 
ever get a chance at the rosin; but if we can get 
the rosin off now, I think we can be almost sure 
of getting away with both. Of course, it 's a 
chance. I 'll do whatever you-all think." 

They talked it over at great length, but Joe's 
reasoning seemed sound. The rosin was too big 
a thing to risk losing. 

‘'Another thing," Joe added. “The river 
boats are n't usually very heavily loaded when 
they come down-river at this time of year. 
There 's every chance that they can load our bees 
aboard somewhere, or part of them anyway, so 
that they can go with the rosin." 

“Suppose those pirates turned up just as we 
were carrying off the plunder !" Carl suggested. 

“Nothing to do then but defend ourselves," 
said Bob with determination. “We 're as many 
as they are, after all, and as well armed. I 'd 
say, fight r 

“Fight it is !" Joe agreed. “But I hope it won't 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 297 

come to that. I believe our luck will hold a little 
longer.’' 

'Well, there’s no time to lose in getting 
started. It ’ll take us goodness knows how long 
to raft that stuff down the bayou in our flat- 
boat. And the steamer ’ll be back in two or three 
days,” said Bob. 

"We can save some trouble by towing the barge 
as far as possible up the bayou,” Joe proposed. 
"Yes, we ought to start right away.” 

Nothing else but this last, biggest chance of all 
was talked of during the rest of the morning 
and while they prepared and ate dinner. It 
was a risk; there was danger in it indeed. No- 
body was disposed to back out, and yet they hes- 
itated to start. However, after dinner the boys 
all went down to the river and, with immense 
labor, towed and poled the big barge up the 
bayou and moored it below the bee-yard. Be- 
yond that the channel was too crooked and nar- 
row for its passage. 

This took them until nearly the middle of the 
afternoon, and then, without debate, they took 
the final plunge. Alice declined to be left alone 
at the cabin, so they all got into the flat boat and 


298 THE WOODS-RIDER 

poled up the bayou until they reached the hiding- 
place of the treasure. Tying up the boat, they 
landed. With an ax Bob rapidly cut a clear path 
through the jungle, and they ripped away the 
covering of brush from the rosin heap. 

‘‘Now we Ve cast the die!” said Joe. WeVe 
got to work hard and quick — day and night, if 
necessary — until this stuff is all loaded. Alice’ll 
stand guard for us. Sam, get out that wheel- 
barrow.” 

Luckily it was only a few yards from the rosin 
to the water. With the old shovel they had 
found, it was a mere matter of seconds to fill the 
wheelbarrow ; Sam trundled it down to the bayou, 
and the first load of rosin went rattling into the 
boat. 

Ripping away the cover of brush from the 
heap finally disclosed a second shovel, and this 
expedited matters. Sam was kept briskly trot- 
ting to and fro with the laden barrow. Carl, who 
had no shovel, made an attempt to scoop up the 
rosin with a piece of board ; and Alice, after look- 
ing on for some time, went a little way down the 
stream and posted herself on guard, ready to give 
the alarm if a boat should be seen coming up. 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 299 

The single wheelbarrow was the great hin- 
drance. The white boys stood idle for half the 
time, while Sam was wheeling the load; never- 
theless the flatboat slowly filled up. The cargo 
seemed to have taken scarcely a noticeable amount 
from the great pile. 

^'Gracious, there 's a powerful lot of the stuff r 
exclaimed Carl. 

‘^Dere shore is Sam chuckled. ^'Bet you has 
to give me dat thousand dollars, after all, Mr. 
Joe.^’ 

They all got aboard, standing uncertainly on 
the lumpy cargo, and navigated the flatboat down 
to the apiary and the barge. Here Sam and 
Carl hastily began to shovel the stuff into the 
bigger boat. Bob meanwhile went up to the 
cabin, where they heard sounds presently of 
sawing and hammering. Before the boys had 
completed the transfer of the cargo he came back, 
carrying a sort of stretcher — a shallow box with 
handles. 

‘Tt ’ll be a heavy business, but it ’ll help the 
wheelbarrow out,” he remarked, as he exhibited 
it. 

Sa it did. The box held about a hundred 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


300 

pounds of the brown lumps, and with a boy carry- 
ing each end it doubled the speed of loading. 
The second filling of the flatboat was completed 
in far less time than the first, and again they 
floated down and shoveled the rosin into the 
barge. Everything had gone with wonderful 
smoothness so far ; there was no sign of the river 
pirates’ return and their confidence and hope in- 
creased with every wheelbarrow-load. 

The sun was falling low over the swamps now, 
but they kept at work to the last spark of light, 
and brought down the last load in almost total 
■darkness. While they were shoveling it into the 
barge, Alice went up to the cabin and prepared 
fried pork, corn-bread, and coffee. 

‘We ’ve made a big start, anyway,” said Carl 
rejoicing as he ate. 

“Yes, but only a start,” returned Bob. “When 
does that steamboat come back? Day after to- 
morrow ? It ’ll take us all our time to get that 
stuff moved before to-morrow night.” 

“Why not tackle it again to-night?” Joe sug- 
gested. “We can make fires and torches to give 
us light enough to shovel by.” 

They were all tired, and gummed up with rosin. 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 301 

but after they had eaten and rested for an hour 
the proposition seemed less unattractive. They 
took to the flatboat again, carrying torches of 
fat-pine, and at the treasure-place they lighted 
a fire of pine and lumps of rosin that gave out a 
smoky and lurid illumination. It was enough to 
shovel by, as Joe said, but it was a disquieting 
fact that the glare could be seen a long way off. 
However, if the river-men were anywhere in the 
vicinity they would be sure to come up within a 
few hours in any case, so the fire-light could do 
nothing but hasten the danger a little. 

They kept their firearms handy while they 
worked, and half a dozen times there was a 
sudden alarm, a halt, and a hasty grabbing of 
guns. But these alarms all turned out false. 
They floated the load down to the barge without 
interruption, transferred it, and went back for 
another. This one also moved in safety, and 
their nervousness began to subside. 

For hour after hour they worked, shoveling, 
poling, shoveling, carrying the heavy stretcher, in 
the hot, wet atmosphere of the swamp, in the 
orange glare of the rosin-fed fire. They 
streamed with sweat ; mosquitoes buzzed in 


302 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


clouds, but no one had time to notice them. Load 
after load went down ‘the bayou and was shoveled 
into the barge, until, an hour after midnight, 
their endurance gave out. 

‘‘Better knock off,'' Bob advised. “No use 
overdoing it ; and we 've gpt a heavy day to- 
morrow." 

They ate another late supper, nodding with 
exhaustion, barely able to keep awake. Carl 
suggested doubtfully that some one ought to 
stand sentry, but they were all too tired to care. 
They tumbled into their various couches, and 
went almost instantly to sleep. Joe felt that 
Carl’s suggestion was right; he made a faint 
attempt to keep awake for some time, but he 
awoke suddenly with a start and found gray 
dawn in the air. It was morning; a heavy mist 
lay on the swamp and the bayou. Everything 
was undisturbed. The cabin had not been burned 
during the night, and the rest of his party were 
still soundly asleep. 

He got up, feeling sofe and stiff, and awak- 
ened the others. Breakfast was a rather silent 
and glum meal, but the influence of hot food and 
coffee spread by degrees through their muscles, 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 303 

and they mustered up energy to attack the big 
task again. 

They had made progress the night before. A 
great end of the rosin heap was gone, perhaps a 
third of it. And the barge was nearly half filled. 
It was doubtful if they would be able to take 
away the whole of the mound. 

However, they set to work to get what they 
could. Stiffened muscles gradually suppled 
again, and they shoveled and wheeled, poled the 
boat and shifted the cargo, all through that hot, 
sticky morning. They struck work for an hour 
at noon, then attacked it again, doggedly deter- 
mined to finish that afternoon. About four 
o’clock they stopped for more food. The furious 
work seemed to keep them always ravenously 
hungry. 

‘Tt ’s a good thing we ’re leaving presently,’^ 
Alice remarked. ^‘There ’s just about provisions 
to last us. This is the end of the sugar.” 

^'Plenty of honey,” said Joe. We won’t suffer 
for sweet anyhow.” 

A dash of rain came down that afternoon and 
cooled the air. By sunset the barge had about 
as much rosin as she could carry, Joe thought, 


304 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


though there were still a good many cubic feet 
left in the pile. They ventured to bring down 
another boat-load, then another, and stopped for 
supper, undecided whether to continue after dark. 
But while they we're eating they were all star- 
tled by a long, deep-toned murmur, like a vast 
echo, that seemed to rise from every direction 
upon the air. 

'The steamboat, by jingo!” ejaculated Joe. 
"She ’s a day ahead of her schedule this time.” 

"And we haven’t got the barge down to the 
river. We’ll miss her!” Alice cried. 

"Oh, she won’t be along for hours yet,” Joe 
reassured. "Plenty of time to finish supper, and 
then meet her. But this puts an end to mining 
out any more rosin.” 

"Don’t you reckon we’ve done a thousand 
barrels, Mr. Joe?” Sam demanded anxiously 
from the background, where he was eating corn- 
bread and honey. 

"When it ’s all melted down and barreled up 
it may make half that,” the woods-rider an- 
swered. "Hard to guess. But is n’t that good 
enough ? It ought to bring three thousand 
dollars.” 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 305 

The far-away steamboat blew again as he was 
speaking. Growing anxious, Carl went up to the 
top of the ridge to look and listen. He reported 
that the wind was blowing the wrong way; the 
boat might be nearer than they thought, and he 
imagined he had caught a distant flash of her 
searchlight. 

Accordingly they finished supper in a hurry 
and went down to get the barge off. The current 
would float it down, very slowly indeed, but 
certainly, and it would only have to be roped to 
the steamer's side. Bob remained at the cabin, 
to pack up the supplies. The chances were that 
the boat would be able to take bees and every- 
thing. 

'T know these river boats," Joe said confidently. 
''She 's sure not to have much freight this trip, 
and she 'll wait all night while we bring the bees 
down. I 'd bet she 'd wait most of to-morrow 
too for that much cargo." 

It would not take long to cover the hive-en- 
trances with wire-gauze and take them down to 
the river on the flatboat, and during the absence 
of the others Bob busied himseM with preparing 
the wire, tacks, and all necessary apparatus for 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


306 

an instant move. Alice had gone with the rest 
to see the rosin shipped, and soon after the barge 
had disappeared down the dark bayou Bob heard 
the roar of the whistle much louder and nearer, 
and saw the unmistakable flash of the light, 
playing on the sky over the forest like summer 
lightning. 

It was two hours, however, before the steamer 
finally blew her whistle deafeningly off the bayou. 
By the reflection of the lights Bob could see that 
she had stopped. She stayed there for perhaps 
half an hour; then, to his dismay, she roared a 
long blast and started again, her white light play- 
ing on the sky as she went down and around the 
River Island on her way to Mobile. 

It was another half hour before he heard the 
sound of oars coming up the bayou. He went 
down to the shore cautiously. The boat pulled 
in, and Sam and Joe came ashore out of the dark- 
ness. 

‘Wouldn’t she wait for the bees?” exclaimed 
Bob anxiously. ‘Where’s Carl and Alice?” 

“No, she would n’t wait,” replied Joe, in a 
strange voice. “She was loaded down with 


THE TREASURE OE ROSIN 307 

freight ; she could n't have carried a single bee- 
hive. That 's nothing. But she is n't coming 
back, Bob. This is her last trip." 

'What?" cried Bob, incredulously. 

"She 's to be laid up for a couple of months 
anyway. She has n't been paying lately, and 
there 's some labor trouble with the freight- 
handlers at the Mobile dock. The captain only 
got the word at Selma two days ago. No more 
boats on the river for the rest of this spring. I 
shipped the rosin down to Harper's camp. Carl 
goes with it, and I made Alice go too. For 
we're stranded here, don't you see, Bob? We 
can't get away, not with the bees; and those 
pirates are going to be back directly.'’ 

Bob was silent, completely stunned with this 
catastrophe. Sam made the boat fast, and the 
three of them began to walk despondently up the 
slope to the cabin in the dark. 

"Alice and Carl can get a car or buggy from 
Harper's up to Uncle Louis's," Joe continued. 
"Alice didn't want to go, but we made her. 
This is going to be too dangerous a place for any 
girl. There was n't time to arrange anything, 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


308 

but Carl is going to see if he can’t have help sent 
down to us — if we can only hold out till it 
comes.” 

They stopped outside the cabin. Dimly in the 
gloom they could see the pale outline of the rows 
of beehives, all full of good, straight, new combs 
and crowded with live bees — a valuable property 
which the boys had built up out of nothing. 

'Those pirates are sure to be back within a 
day or two,” Joe went on. "They ’ll see how 
we ’ve looted the rosin, and then they ’ll get us. 
But what are we to do? Can’t go off and desert 
the bee-ranch.” 

"I should say not,” cried Bob, clenching his 
fists. "I won’t do that! We must n’t be beaten 
now. Joe, we’ve just got to get these bees out of 
here right away, and down to the railroad!” 

"I ’m with you. But how are we going to do 
it ?” Joe returned. 

Bob had no answer ready. Sam was building 
a fire and preparing to get supper. Away down 
the river the steamboat roared sullenly, echoing 
weirdly over the forests. They were all tired 
and unstrung with the reaction from that day 
and night of hard labor, and the wilderness 


THE TREASURE OF ROSIN 309 

seemed desperately lonely, dangerous, and 
depressing. The corn-bread that Sam stirred up 
did not have the flavor of Alice’s hands, and, 
worse still, there was very little of it left. The 
pork was almost gone too. 

'We ’ll have to do some hunting,” said Joe, 
gloomily. 

But the food question troubled them only 
slightly. It was the problem of getting the bees 
away that occupied their whole minds. They 
talked it over from every point of view without 
reaching any solution, until nearly ten o’clock. 
Then came a heavy downpour of rain that drove 
them into the cabin. 

It was a torrential deluge that leaked through 
the cabin roof in a dozen places, but the cabin 
was at any rate better than the rough shelter out- 
side. The rain slackened a little; they tried to 
sleep, but lay awake for a long time. Joe dozed 
at last, and awakened to hear the rain thundering 
in torrents on the roof again. A stream was 
falling on his legs. He got up, struck a match, 
and endeavored to find a less damp spot. Bob 
was soundly asleep, but Sam suddenly stole for- 
ward out of the corner where he had lain down. 


310 THE WOODS-RIDER 

''What 's the matter ? Getting wet, Sam 
Joe inquired. 

"No-suh, Mr. Joe, I don’t min’ dat none. I 
ain’t been sleepin’. I been studyin’ — bout dem 
bees, Mr. Joe. What I been studyin’ on is dis. 
Why can’t we-all make a sorter raft, an’ float dem 
bees down to whar you-all wants ’em?” 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE BEE RAFT 

A RAFT?” said Joe, astonished. ‘^Nonsense, 
Sam. Why, it would take a raft as big as 
the whole bee-yard.” 

''Plenty of dry cypress logs down yander, all 
’long de bayou. We ’d mighty soon make a big 
raft,” Sam persisted. 

At this moment Bob also appeared out of the 
gloom, roused by the sound of talking. 

"It mightn’t take such a big raft,” he said. 
"We could pack the hives close together. I 
believe Sam ’s hit on something. Can’t we have 
alight?” 

Joe thrust a few fragments of pine, and scraps 
of an old gum, sticky with wax and resin, into the 
fireplace, and struck a light. The leaky old cabin 
looked more cheerful as the flame flared up, and 
while the rain still roared on the roof they 
discussed the new scheme. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


312 

*s figure how big a raft it would really 
take/’ said Joe, taking a bit of pencil and a 
piece of smooth board. ‘‘A hive is sixteen by 
twenty inches square.” 

A little calculation showed that the raft would 
need to be at least fifty feet long and twelve feet 
wide, to hold the bees, placed in four rows. 

'^But it ’s only about thirty miles down to the 
place where we ’d want to land them,” said Bob. 
‘^Then we’ll be only four miles from the rail- 
road. Is n’t that right ? I should think we could 
float that far in one day. The river runs 
smoothly, and the bees would hardly know they 
were being moved. I don’t think we ’d even 
need to close the hives. It ’s a lot better way 
than the steamboat, and then think of all the 
freight we ’ll save.” 

Sam chuckled jubilantly at this support. 

‘Tt ’d be a big job to build that raft,” said Joe. 
‘There ’s plenty of timber and nails, to be sure, 
but what about lumber for joining and flooring 
it?” 

“Tear this old cabin to pieces !” Bob exclaimed. 
“We won’t need it any more.” 

“Good idea ! That ’ll certainly give us all the 


THE BEE RAFT 


313 

boards we want/' said Joe, and he laughed. 
‘^What a joke on Blue Bob, if he comes back here 
and finds the rosin, bees, and cabin all gone !" 

The plan seemed more and more possible as 
they discussed it. The heavy rain ceased while 
they talked; the fire burned down, and they at last 
retired to their damp couches and slept. But 
they were up early in the morning, and, after 
a hasty breakfast, they went out to look over the 
resources of timber. 

The morning was clear, and the sun came up 
brilliantly. The bayou had risen considerably 
with the rain and flowed with a muddy and 
perceptible current. As Sam had said, there 
were plenty of fallen cypress logs along the 
bayou, as well as dead standing trunks, and the 
sloping bank would make it easy to get them into 
the water. 

'T vote that we try it," said Joe at last. ‘Tt 
seems to be our only chance to get away with the 
bees. We’ll have to cut out the logs for the body 
of the raft first, and then pull down the cabin, 
rush the bees aboard, and start quick." 

Without any delay they set to work, with 
muscles that had scarcely recovered from the 


314 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


stiffness of loading the rosin. Unfortunately 
they had only one ax, but they kept that busy. 
For twenty minutes Sam chopped furiously, then 
passed the ax to Joe, who in turn relinquished it 
to Bob. Then, while one chopped, the others 
rolled logs into convenient places, and began to 
pull out nails from the cabin walls and make 
what other preparations they could. 

By dinner-time they had cut up ten twelve- 
foot logs and rolled them down to the water. All 
that afternoon they toiled hard, and all the next 
day. They were haunted with the idea that Blue 
Bob and his men might return at this last, critical 
moment. The sound of the echoing ax was 
dangerous; it would surely draw the river-men 
if they were within hearing, and the boys kept 
nervously on the alert, never without a weapon 
at hand. 

But they were not interrupted in any way, and 
in two days they had forty stout logs of dry 
cypress cut out, which, as Bob said, looked enough 
to float a church. 

The next thing was to rip the boarding off the 
cabin. This was to be the final step, for it would 


THE BEE RAFT 


315 

deprive them of shelter. It was too late to make 
any progress with it that evening, however. 

‘'This may be our last chance to sleep,’' Bob re- 
marked. “Let 's have supper and then make the 
most of a roof while we 've got it.” 

“Nothin’ much for supper ’ceptin’ corn-meal, 
an’ mighty little of that,” put in Sam, after 
inspecting the larder. 

“Good thing we ’re going to be away to- 
morrow,” said Joe. “Break into that stuff under 
the floor and get a ham. There ’s no time to 
hunt or fish now, and we ’ve got to have lots to 
eat, with all this heavy work.” 

Sam delightedly broke into the robbers’ hoard 
in the “cellar” and unearthed a ham, from which 
he fried several large slices. It was a little 
musty, but it was better food than they had had 
for a day or two, and after devouring it they 
took Bob’s advice and slept soundly, all of them 
being extremely tired. 

With the next daylight they began the work 
of tearing down Old Dick’s cabin. The boards 
were old, many of them were badly rotted, but 
most of them would serve in some way. Rapidly 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


316 

they ripped them off with ax and hammer, until 
the building that had been so useful to them was 
a mere skeleton. It was then noon; they cooked 
more of the stolen ham, and, growing reckless. 
Bob delved into the buried hoard and brought up 
a tin of biscuits and a can of tomatoes. 

‘We can keep track of what we use, and settle 
for it later with — with somebody,’’ he explained. 

After eating, they laboriously carried the 
lumber down to the bayou, rolled half a dozen 
logs into the water, and began to put the raft to- 
gether. It was a hot day, and the moist heat near 
the water was intense. Worried by mosquitoes 
and yellow-flies, soaked to the skin by constantly 
splashing into and out of the water, the boys 
labored and sweltered. They flung the boards 
across the logs and nailed them down as rapidly 
as possible, and the raft grew before their eyes. 
But it was going to be a bigger job than they had 
anticipated, and they had to stop at dark with 
only a third of the craft completed. 

After seven hours of furious labor the next 
day they had laid all the flooring of the raft. 
Nothing was left now but to load the bees and the 
supplies ; but they looked dubiously at the task of 



With the next daylight they began the work of tearing down 
Old Dick’s cabin 



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THE BEE RAFT 


317 


carrying more than a hundred two-story hives 
fifty yards down-hill to the water. It would take 
two of them to handle one hive, and they would 
have to walk slowly. 

''Better sit down and rest for an hour,’’ Bob 
advised. 

They did rest for half an hour, but, tired as 
they were, they were nervously impatient to fin- 
ish. The end was in sight, but they might still be 
caught at any moment, and the whole enterprise 
collapse in disaster and possibly in bloodshed. 

Since the honey was extracted, the hives were 
not extremely heavy, but they were awkward to 
handle. According to Bob’s suggestion, they 
had not closed the hive-entrances, and the bees 
had to be smoked to keep them from boiling out 
in a rage when their hives were lifted. It was 
with the greatest difficulty that they induced Sam 
to do his share of this ticklish and dangerous 
work; he was willing to carry double loads of 
anything else, but not bees ; and, in fact, Joe and 
Bob did most of it. To preserve the balance they 
loaded the raft from each end, and by sunset a 
third of the apiary was on board. To their joy, 
the raft seemed to bear the weight buoyantly. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


318 

They rested for a little after supper, but they 
were determined to get the work finished that 
night, and they went at it again. Sam built a 
big blaze of pine and broken-up gums at the bee- 
yard and another beside the raft, where the bees 
munmured uneasily at the glare and disturbance. 
At eleven o’clock a hundred hives were aboard. 
Greatly encouraged now, they made coffee and 
rested for another half-hour; and by one o’clock 
every hive stood on the raft. 

/Carrying down their tools, bedding, and per- 
sonal possessions, the honey extractor and the 
guns, they stowed them in the already crowded 
space. 

''Got everything? Ready to go?” Joe de- 
manded, gazing about the wreck of the cabin and 
apiary in the fire-glare. 

"Got everything? Why, you-all ain’t a-goin’ 
leave all dis yere val’able stuff?” cried Sam 
wildly, indicating the pirates’ treasure that had 
been under the floor, now laid open to the sky. 

"I don’t know. What do you say. Bob ?” said 
Joe, undecidedly. 

"Might as well take some of the most valuable 
stuff,” Bob advised, at which Sam gave a yell of 


THE BEE RAFT 


319 


delight. course we ’ll hand it over to the 

authorities when we get anywhere. It ’s all 
marked with the name of the owner or shipper.” 

Sam’s countenance fell heavily. However, 
they hastily picked out what appeared to be the 
most valuable portions of the stolen goods, put 
them into a couple of empty beehives, and carried 
them aboard. They fastened the rowboat by a 
scrap of rope to the stern of the raft. The flat- 
boat would have to be left in the bayou; they had 
no further use for it. Sam brought buckets of 
water and put out the fires. 

''All ready now. All aboard!” cried Joe. 

He tried to push the raft off with a pole. It 
scarcely stirred. It seemed fast to the place as 
if anchored. All the boys heaved their weight 
on poles, and at last, inch by inch, they got the 
heavy affair away from the shore and out into 
the channel. But even there the current seemed 
hardly capable of moving it. 

"This ’ll never do I” Bob cried in alarm. 
"It ’ll take us two days to get out of the bayou at 
this rate.” 

"Heave hard on the poles,” said Joe. 

They poled vigorously against the muddy bot- 


320 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


tom. It was a long time before their efforts had 
much perceptible result; but the big raft slowly 
gathered some speed, and at last attained a rate 
of something like a mile an hour. 

It was a nervous period. It seemed impossible 
to work the speed any higher. The usual river 
mist had risen, making the woods and the water 
gray and indistinct. The boys sat on the bee- 
hives, hot, damp, alert, watching the trees crawl 
slowly past through the dim fog. It seemed to 
them that hours went by before a wider space 
showed dimly in front, and the head of the raft 
veered under a new current. 

'The river at last!'’ muttered Joe, with im- 
mense relief. 

They were really emerging into the Alabama. 
The boys fended off from the shore, fearful of 
sticking on the sand-bar as the raft slowly poked 
its nose out into the big river. Through the fog 
they could see little, but they could hear the rush 
and surge of the deep waters, running high with 
the heavy rain. They were fairly under way at 
last, and the anxiety began to fall from their 
minds. 

But before the raft was entirely out of the 


THE BEE RAFT 


321 

bayou Bob suddenly gripped his cousin hard by 
the arm. Joe had heard it too, and so had Sam — 
the rattle and splash of oars up the stream. A 
boat was coming; it was invisible in the fog, but 
a few seconds later they heard a loud, reckless 
voice that they all recognized. 

‘'Blue Bob! Oh, lordy! Now we’s sure 
’nuff cotched!’' Sam groaned. 

“Hush!’’ Joe whispered, with a savage glance. 

The boys crouched on the raft, scarcely dar- 
ing to breathe, for their slowly-moving craft 
still blocked the mouth of the bayou. But for- 
tunately the pirates’ boat was not so near as they 
imagined. Sound carries clear and far through 
fog, and the gray mist lay like a blanket on the 
water. The boys could not see from one end of 
the raft to the other; and they did not know 
for certain whether they were actually out un- 
til the raft began to show a brisker activity and to 
swing ponderously round in the Alabama 
current. 

“What’s that?” said a voice that sounded, 
scarce twenty feet distant. “I see somethin’ 
movin’ yander.” 

The oaHS stopped. A faint blur showed 


322 THE WOODS-RIDER 

through the fog. Joe noiselessly cocked his little 
rifle. 

‘^Timber raft!” Blue Bob declared. ‘^Black- 
burn’s gang has been raftin’ logs all the week 
down ter Mobile. I kin see it right plain. 

“Well, that’s what you reckon. I want to go 
an’ make shore,” returned another voice. 

“Aw, shucks!” retorted the chief. “Nothin’ 
but a gang of river niggers aboard. We ’ve got 
too heavy a load here to row back against this 
current.” 

The stroke of the oars began again. The boat 
seemed to pass within a stone’s toss of the end of 
the raft, and the sound of rowing grew fainter 
up the bayou. 

“Safe !” Bob ventured to whisper, after silence 
had fallen. 

“I reckon so,” Joe murmured. “My hair al- 
most turned gray for a minute. Luckily we put 
out those fires.” 

“Yes-suh, Mr. Joe,” said Sam hoarsely. “But 
don’t you reckon dey ’ll see right quick that we ’ve 
done took de rosin an’ busted de cabin an’ moved 
de bees — an’ dey ’ll be right after us?” 

“They can’t see anything to-night,” returned 


THE BEE RAFT 


323 


Joe. ‘‘Likely they 'll sleep late to-morrow, and 
by noon we ought to be nearly at the end of our 
journey." 

“Besides, they 'll think we 've gone by the 
steamboat," said Bob, “and no use chasing us. 
They 'll never dream of a raft. I don't believe 
they 'll give us any more trouble at all." 

They all tried to adopt this optimistic view. 
The raft was well out in the big river now, drift- 
ing at fair speed but proving quite unsteerable. 
The water was too deep to reach the bottom with 
the poles, and it was impossible to see anything 
ahead through the haze, so the boys were com- 
pelled to sit still upon the bee-hives, letting the 
raft drift, and trusting to blind luck to keep clear 
of sand-bars. 

But the night was drawing to an end. Pres- 
ently the fog paled and then reddened over in the 
east, and began to disperse. As the sun came up 
the drifting clouds split and melted ; the boys saw 
themselves at last in the wide, yellow river, nearly 
in mid-channel, with low banks of intensely green 
swamp on both sides. The river was several 
hundred yards wide at this point, running fast 
with great surging eddies. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


3H 

They were delighted to see how well the raft 
that they had built carried the weight of the hives. 
The flooring was dry ; the hives stood a good four 
inches above the water. The framework seemed 
to hold together rigidly and strongly. Hardly a 
bee was in sight, though all the entrances were 
wide open. They had all crept inside, discom- 
forted by the damp and by the steady swaying 
motion. 

''How about breakfast?'’ Joe suggested. 

"Just the thing,” said Bob. "I brought some 
of the stolen grub from the cabin. But we ’ll 
have to eat raw ham, I guess, for we can’t build 
a fire here.” 

"Why not?” Joe laughed, and he got into the 
small boat, rowed himself ashore, and overtook 
the raft with a bushel of sand and gravel and 
mud. With these materials they made a fireplace 
on the planking of the raft and ventured to 
kindle enough of a blaze to boil coifee and fry 
ham, putting it out immediately afterward, 
though Joe said that the timber rafts carry fires 
burning continually on a mud bed. 

The food did them a great deal of good, and 
they began to feel much more cheerful. The sun 


THE BEE RAFT 


325 

shone brilliantly over the river, promising another 
hot day. The bees, warmed up, began to stir 
uneasily, crawling out, taking wing, and then re- 
turning, confused by the strangeness of the 
locality. 

^T do believe they ’re going to try to gather 
honey while they travel,” exclaimed Joe. ^Tf 
they do, they ’ll never get back to the raft again.” 

But the intelligent insects were far too know- 
ing to be thus caught. They flew about within 
a few yards of the hives, evidently looking the 
situation over. Then, deciding that conditions 
were far too mysterious and uncertain for work, 
they settled about the hive entrances in clusters 
and flew no more. 

All through that forenoon the boys kept a 
watchful eye on the river behind them, continu- 
ally in dread of seeing Blue Bob’s pursuing boat 
dart around a bend. But their apprehensions 
gradually diminished as time passed. The raft 
was making quite creditable speed now, for the 
current was unusually strong since the rain. 
The river wound and doubled on itself through 
the trees, always curving, always bordered by the 
dense swamps, gray with drooping Spanish moss. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


326 

Twice they passed a solitary and deserted river- 
side warehouse — stopping-places for the boat. 
Once in a long time there was a patch of ''bottom- 
land corn/’ growing rankly in the rich mud; but 
the only human being they saw was a negro fish- 
erman in a canoe. He was so stupified by the 
sight of the big raft of bee-hives that he was in- 
capable of even answering the boys’ hail. 

The boys lounged back on their blankets and 
let the raft drift. Sam went soundly asleep on 
his back in the sun. It was pleasant to rest, for 
they had been under a great physical strain for 
days and had been cutting the nights short at both 
ends. But now they began to feel well on the 
way to safety, and they let the warm sun take the 
ache out of their sore muscles. 

"The worst is over now,” said Bob. "We 
ought to be able to land the bees to-night. No 
fear of pursuit now, I guess. In a month from 
now we ’ll have a car-load of bees up in Ontario, 
at Harman’s Corners, and we ’ll all be independ- 
ent for the rest of our lives.” 

"You bet we will!” Joe responded with enthu- 
siasm. "I ’m going to learn the bee business for 


THE BEE RAFT 


327 

all I ’m worth. With the money from the rosin 
and everything we ought to be on velvet, and I 
don’t see how we can possibly lose on the thing 
now.” 

It was clear, however, that it would be late 
that evening before they could reach the spot 
where Joe counted on unloading the bees, whence 
they could be hauled across country to the rail- 
way. The river continued to unroll its endless, 
solitary windings. Wild ducks whirred up oc- 
casionally; once two small alligators flopped oif 
the sand-bar into the water. Bob tried a little 
fishing but caught nothing. Sam was asleep 
again, and the two white boys finally lapsed into 
a doze. 

They were sharply awakened by the raft touch- 
ing on a hidden sand-bar, half grounding, and 
them swinging off, end for end. Startled by the 
jar, the bees were roaring and crawling out. 
The boys, scarcely less startled, sprang to the 
poles to push off, but the danger was already 
over, and the raft was under way again. 

“That won’t do!” exclaimed Joe. “We must 
keep better watch than that. The river ’s falling 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


328 

now; it may be a foot lower by morning, and if 
we 'd got hung on that bar we might never have 
got off/’ 

For the rest of that afternoon they slept no 
more, but kept on the lookout for dangerous 
shallows. The raft did not ground again, but 
once it went over a submerged snag with a grind- 
ing jar that set all the bees rushing out. The 
collision might have ripped the bottom out of a 
boat, but the raft was unsinkable. 

The sun went down over the swamps, and Sam 
lighted the fire again on the bed of sand and pre- 
pared supper. Mosquitoes began to be bad; a 
cool dampness, full of the smell of rotting vege- 
tation, rose from the water. But it did not look 
as if there was going to be any fog that night, and 
they were determined to keep on as long as they 
could see. It could not be many miles, Joe 
thought, to their destination. 

So they kept on through the twilight. It was 
almost dark when the raft went round a bend, 
and, carried by the shoot of the cross-current, 
went straight for the other shore, where a long 
peninsula extended, piled with a rick of dead 
drift-timber. 


THE BEE RAFT 


329 

‘‘Steer her! Fend off!’’ Joe shouted, but the 
momentum was too great. Nor would the poles 
touch bottom, and the raft ran heavily into some- 
thing, recoiled, and swung sideways into the 
mass of fallen trees. There was a tremendous 
rending and crashing, and for a moment the 
heavy craft seemed likely to sweep the obstruc- 
tion away. Then it slackened, the snapping of 
twigs ceased. The raft stood motionless, with 
the river current surging under its timbers. 
There was a great roaring from the troubled 
bees. 

‘'Hung up for sure said Bob, peering through 
the twilight at the tangle of dead branches. 
“We ’ll have to chop and saw all that stuff clear. 
It ’ll be an all-night job.” 

They were close to the shore, and mosquitoes 
began to swarm out in vicious hordes. Slapping 
at the pests, the boys in perplexity tried to ex- 
amine the trap they were in by the light of 
splinters of blazing pine. 

“I vote we go ashore somewhere and camp,” 
Joe suggested. “We can’t do this job in the dark. 
The mosquitoes ’ll eat us alive if we stay here 
all night, and we might get a dose of chills and 


330 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


fever besides. Let ’s go back to high ground.’’ 

‘Think it’s safe?” Bob asked, doubtfully. 

“Of course. The raft can’t get loose, and no- 
body is going to touch it. We must be far out of 
Blue Bob’s range now. We ’d have seen him 
before if he ’d been after us.” 

The others were willing to be persuaded, and 
they put the blankets and guns into the boat and 
went ashore. It was hard to find a spot dry 
enough to land. They got involved in a swamp, 
groped through fifty yards of mud and jungle, 
and came at last to rising “hammock-land.” A 
hundred yards further the ground was still 
higher, and a bare, open space seemed to promise 
comparative freedom from mosquitoes. It was 
so warm that they needed no fire; they spread 
their blankets on the bare ground and went 
promptly asleep. 

Nothing disturbed them during the night, and 
they slept late, making up for their lately broken 
rests. The sun was well up when they awoke, 
and the night fog was thinning on the river. 
They were chilly and wet with dew as they 
tramped stiffly down to the shore, found their 
boat, and started to row down to the raft. 


THE BEE RAFT 


331 


There was still a drifting haze on the water. It 
was impossible to see clearly to the opposite bank, 
but the long point at the river bend, the rick of 
dead driftwood, was plain enough. But — 

They let the boat drift, staring incredulously. 
''Oh, Joe!’' cried Bob in a heart-broken voice. 
The tangle of drift had been pried and cut 
apart. The raft was no longer there. 


CHAPTER XVII 


war on the river 

''TT can’t possibly be gone!” exclaimed Joe, des- 
X perately. “How could it have got loose?” 

Bob pointed to the dead timber, which showed 
the fresh marks of ax and saw. 

“It ’s been cut in the night,” he said bitterly. 
“We were fools to leave it here. And if we 
had n’t slept so heavily we ’d have heard the noise 
of chopping. Of course it ’s the river-^men who 
did this.” 

“Yes,” Joe admitted, “and I surely thought 
we ’d thrown them oif the trail. But they must 
have been following us down all the time, likely 
waiting back around the last river bend all last 
evening. Oh, it ’s Blue Bob’s work, all right. 
Who else ’d have been out on the river in the 
dark and fog? And nobody else in Alabama 
would have run off with that raft of bees. He ’s 


332 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


333 

trying to get back at us for the rosin. But we ’ll 
get him yet.” 

‘'The raft ’s gone down stream, Joe,” said Bob, 
after a silence. “No power in Alabama could 
have hauled it a foot the other way, and it ’s too 
big to hide. Those fellows can’t be very many 
miles down the river with it.” 

“We’ll overtake them; of course we will!” 
returned Joe, grimly. “Good thing we carried 
our guns ashore last night. How many cart- 
ridges have you?” 

Their supply was short. Bob had nothing but 
the seven rounds in the magazine of his repeater. 
Joe had twelve shots in his magazine and a hand- 
ful of loose cartridges in his pocket. Unfor- 
tunately Bob’s rifle was of a different caliber and 
would not take^ them. 

“It ’s enough, anyway,” said Bob. “I hope 
we don’t fire even all these. We ’ll play those 
fellows at their own game — trail them, run them 
down, catch them unawares. I only wish we ’d 
brought some grub ashore with us.” 

“I kin soon shoot a rabbit or ketch a few cat- 
fish.” Sam suggested. 

“No time for that now,” said Joe. “I think 


334 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


we ought to catch up with the raft within two or 
three hours if we start right off/' 

Charged with grim determination they started 
down the river. By the time they had reached 
the first great curve the fog had lifted, and they 
crept cautiously around the bend. Nothing was 
in sight on the new reach ahead. Indeed they 
had expected nothing so soon, and they raced 
down a mile of channel, edged warily around the 
bend, and still found the river empty. 

They began to feel faint from hunger, and 
while the white boys rowed they set Sam to troll 
a line over the stern for catfish. But he had no 
luck; he caught nothing. Another river reach 
still showed no trace of the raft. Opening into 
the river at frequent intervals were cross-chan- 
nels, bayous, backwaters and creeks, screened 
with willow, curtained with bamboo-vine, misty 
with gray Spanish moss, but the boys kept to the 
main channel. Seven or eight miles went by. 
They rounded bend after bend, but sighted 
no larger living thing than a flock of wild 
ducks. 

‘T don’t see how she could have got very much 
farther than this,” said Bob, as he mopped his 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


335 

perspiring face. you think those thieves 

could have burned her or cut her to pieces?’’ 

^‘We ’d surely have seen some floating wreck- 
age. ^^And burning would have left an awful 
smell of scorched wax and bees. No, I ’ve been 
thinking that perhaps those fellows did n’t steal 
the raft at all — did n’t stay on it, I mean. 
They ’d have been afraid of the bees, for one 
thing. I ’ll bet they would n’t have stayed an 
hour on board for anything. I believe they may 
have simply taken all the loose articles they could 
lift, and then turned the raft loose to spite us, and 
probably she ’s drifting down somewhere all by 
herself.” 

''Dey ’d shorely want all dat honey in de 
hives,” put in Sam. 'Tt ’s worf a heap of 
money.” 

"‘We didn’t leave much honey. The wax is 
worth a good deal; that’s a fact. But I don’t 
believe they ’d want to handle it,” said Joe. 

Around the next curve they went. Another 
mile of empty, sunny, water lay before them; 
and so it was with the next and the next sweep 
of the river. Then they espied a curl of smoke on 
the shore. It proved to be the fire of a negro fish- 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


336 

erman, who said that he had been on the river all 
night in his boat, and that no raft had gone past. 
He was then breakfasting on corn-bread and fried 
catfish, and he willingly fried more fish for the 
party and gave them all the bread he could spare. 
The food made them feel vastly more hopeful, 
and at last they had something definite to direct 
them. Giving the negro half a dollar, they 
turned up-stream again. 

‘'You must be wrong, Joe,” said Bob. “The 
pirates have got it after all and have hidden it 
somewhere. Otherwise we ’d have sighted it.” 

“Looks that way,” Joe admitted. “Still, I 
can’t believe they ’re riding with the bees. 
They ’d be scared to death. They must have 
poled it into one of these backwaters.” 

“We know it ’s somewhere between here and 
last night’s camp, anyhow. I ’ll search every 
inch of the shore till I find it.” Bob declared. 

Up the river they rowed till the first of the 
bayou-mouths appeared, like a swampy bay. The 
boys put their rifles handy, and, dipping the oars 
without a sound, they pushed into it. But half a 
dozen strokes showed that the raft could never 
have come that way, for the channel was silted up 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


337 

and almost choked with dead and rotting timber. 

They retreated and started up the river again, 
crossing to the other side, where something looked 
like a backwater but proved to be only a willowy 
cove. A little farther they came unexpectedly 
upon a creek-mouth, so screened with swamp 
shrubs that it was invisible at a few yards’ dis- 
tance. But it led merely into a flooded shallow 
flat, swarming with mosquitoes and venomous 
yellow-flies. 

''Reminds me of the time we searched the River 
Island for the houseboat,” said Joe. 

Slowly they made their way up stream, leaving 
not a yard of either shore unobserved. The sun 
was high now, and both the boys were growing 
weary, but it was absolutely certain that every 
stroke was bringing them nearer to the stolen 
bees. 

"I ’d never dare to face Alice again and say the 
bees were lost,” said Joe suddenly. 

"If Blue Bob has destroyed them,” returned 
his cousin, "we ’ll get a sheriff’s posse and spend 
the rest of the summer hunting those thieves 
through the swamps till we get them.” 

Another shallow, rotting backwater proved 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


338 

blank. They zigzagged across the river again 
and were skirting up close to the shore when Joe 
suddenly stopped rowing, with a startled exclam- 
ation. Leaning over, he picked up something 
from the water, and held it up for Bob to see. It 
was a piece of broken honeycomb, about as large 
as his hand. 

The eyes of the two boys met with the same 
look of comprehension. They had struck the 
trail, and Sam voiced the thought in both their 
minds : 

''Golly! Blue Bob is shore gittin’ after dat 
honey. Jes’ what I done said.” 

Plainly, indeed, something was breaking up the 
beehives. Trying to combine speed and silence, 
they rowed up the shore, on the lookout for some 
opening. Again they saw a fragment of comb, 
lodged against a projecting root; but it was fully 
a quarter of a mile before they came to a break 
in the shore, heavily screened by vines and shrubs 
and drooping live-oak branches. They had 
passed right by it on the way down. Masses of 
rattan and wild honeysuckle trailed almost to the 
water, but Joe at once saw signs that something 
had lately crushed through that green curtain. 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


339 

They shoved the boat noiselessly up to the en- 
trance, and Joe thrust his head through the green 
tangle. Almost instantly he drew it back, and 
his eyes gleamed with excitement. 

‘The raft — ’’ he whispered; but he was inter- 
rupted by a sound of subdued voices and a burst 
of laughter, apparently not a hundred feet 
through the trees. 

“It 's there, all right Y' he muttered excitedly. 
“Just inside. I could almost touch it. The 
gang ’s further on. We can^t go in here. We Ve 
got to land and go around.'’ 

“I smells beeswax. I smells smoke, Mr. Joe!" 
whispered Sam, sniffing the air. “What you 
reckon dem fellows doin'?" 

“Don't know. I couldn't see them," returned 
Joe. “Back out of here. Let her float down a 
little." 

They dropped down the current for fifty feet, 
then ran the boat ashore in the mud, and crept 
inland through the palmetto and fern, heading 
for the voices that came through the thickets. 
As they went on the ground grew drier, densely 
grown up with small gum- and bay-trees ; and they 
crawled the last twenty feet through a jungle of 


340 THE WOODS-RIDER 

sharp-edged palmetto, and came in sight of the 
stolen raft. 

There it lay, the raft they had worked upon so 
hard. It was apparently intact, and the close 
rows of beehives still stood upon it, with the 
honey-extractor, the box of tools, and the camp- 
kit. There was a great roaring of bees in the air, 
and immediately the white boys as well as Sam 
smelt both smoke and beeswax. 

The raft was moored by a rope to a great 
splintered pine-stump. There was a strong cur- 
rent running in that bayou ; the rope was 
stretched taut, and the raft swung and swayed 
slightly on the water. The rowboat of the rob- 
bers was drawn up on the shore, and, as Joe took 
in the scene, he espied with astonishment the 
houseboat — the identical black houseboat that he 
had bearded before, snugly stowed and moored 
in the creek a few yards farther up. Evidently 
this nook was one of the regular resorts of the 
river-men. 

He nudged his cousin and pointed it out. But 
they had little attention to spare for the boat. 
What was going on beside the water was of much 
more interest at the moment. 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


341 

The pirates were hardly ten yards away, laugh- 
ing and talking, hard at work. Their guns all lay 
together in their rowboat. Evidently they anti- 
cipated no interruption, and they seemed in great 
spirits. Three or four dismantled beehives lay 
about the shore, but for a few minutes the boys 
could not grasp what the thieves were about. 

Then Candler and the third man stepped 
aboard the raft and gingerly picked up a hive. 
Blue Bob from the shore jeered at them for their 
caution. They dropped it quickly into the water, 
held it under with a pole for a minute or two, 
then drew it ashore. Pulling cover, super and 
bottom apart, they knocked out the wet mass of 
half-drowned bees, shook out the combs, and pro- 
ceeded to cut out the wax. 

Bob gave a convulsive gasp as he realized the 
destruction that was going on. 

'They Te killing them ! They ’re breaking 
them up!” he exclaimed incautiously; but Joe’s 
hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

The pirates had heard nothing. At a little 
distance stood the big iron kettle that had been 
used for rosin, and as they cut out the combs they 
tossed them into it. A small fire burned around 


342 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


its edges, melting the wax. Where there was 
any honey in the combs they cut it out and laid 
it aside, but the Harmans had not left much honey 
from the last extracting. 

‘'We Ve done bust up four of these here gums,” 
they heard Candler say grumblingly, “an’ we ain’t 
got as much honey as I ’ve seen cut outer one bee- 
tree. This ain’t goin’ ter pay us for the rosin 
them young Yankees stole.” 

“I dunno,” said Blue Bob. “You never seen 
so much wax in your born days as we ’ve got here. 
There ’s mebbe three hundred dollars’ worth, 
when we git it all melted up. An’ then ain’t we 
got back our own stuff from Old Dick’s cabin 
that them Yankees stole too?” 

This charge of stealing might have seemed 
more comical if the case had not been so desper- 
ate. But it was maddening to lie there in the 
palmetto and watch their precious apiary being 
destroyed. Four colonies had already been 
drowned and cut up, and the outlaws were now 
heaving a fifth into the water. A cloud of 
frightened and angry bees seethed up as the hive 
went under. Bob was amazed that the fellows 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


343 

had the courage to handle the bees so freely. 
They had not come off unscathed; their chief had 
a large swelling on the blue streak across his 
forehead, and Candler complained that his hand 
was getting stiff with ‘^pizen,^^ but they seemed 
to be taking the whole thing as sport and went 
ahead in high spirits. But it was no sport for 
the owners of the bees. 

‘T can't stand watching this !" Joe whispered. 
^Xet 's give 'em a volley. We could wipe out the 
whole bunch." 

Bob looked over the scene of the wrecking 
doubtfully. Bees were flying in clouds, from the 
hives on the raft as well as from the broken-up 
hives. It is hard to drown a bee. The wet mass 
of stupefied insects on the ground was crawling, 
buzzing, drying off. 

‘‘Hold on a bit," he whispered back. “There'll 
be trouble in a minute. They won't cut up many 
more hives." 

In fact, the bees were flying every moment 
more thickly. The cut-out lumps of honey were 
covered with plundering yellow bodies. Bees 
were darting from the hives on the raft, flying in 


344 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


circles, returning in excitement, smelling the spilt 
honey. The whole raft was beginning to stir 
and roar. 

''These bees is cornin’ round too thick.” Blue 
Bob remarked. He had been about to step on the 
raft for another hive for destruction, but he re- 
coiled before the cloud of irritated insects. He 
made a jump aside and swore, slapping his neck, 
then retreated with some haste. Candler ven- 
tured forward, then drew back. 

"We Ve done got ’em all roused up,” he said. 
"Let ’s wait till they quiet down some.” 

Bob grinned as he heard this. Quiet down! 
The disturbance would get worse every minute. 
The bees were suspicious, irritable from the con- 
tinual jar and movement of the last two days; 
they had gathered no honey; and now they found 
sweet spilled on the ground and the air reeking 
with the smell of honey and wax. It completed 
their demoralization. Not quite sure where the 
honey was, they were already sniffing at one an- 
other’s hives, trying to force an entrance, trying 
to rob. Little yellow knots of fighting bees rolled 
on the planking, trying desperately to sting one 
another. 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


345 

‘^The whole outfit ’s going to go wild in a few 
minutes/’ Bob muttered in Joe’s ear. ^‘There’s 
going to be a robbing riot.” 

Joe did not have experience enough to appre- 
ciate the force of this. Few things are more 
downright terrifying than one of these wars in a 
large bee-yard, when the whole apiary runs 
amuck. Every colony is at once robbing and 
endeavoring to rob; every one is fighting every 
other, and the bees grow so infuriated 
that they will attack everything within their 
range, will fly into fire, will sting even the wood 
of the hives. Men and animals have been killed 
by being caught in such an affray. Such dis- 
turbances seldom happen, and never under 
good management; but here everything was 
set exactly right for the worst sort of out- 
break. 

The river pirates had each been stung several 
times, and had ceased to laugh. They had re- 
treated up toward their houseboat; they had 
lighted pipes, and were trying to keep the bees off 
with great clouds of smoke, waiting vainly for the 
insects to grow quieter. A swirl of darting bees 
hung over the raft; the pile of cut-out combs 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


346 

ashore was completely hidden by the crawling, 
fighting insects. 

''How'll this end?" Joe whispered to Bob. 
"Looks as if they 'd eat each other up." 

"So they will. Nothing but night 'll stop it 
now, and by that time half the outfit 'll be dead," 
returned Bob anxiously. 

Joe scrutinized the scene carefully once more. 

"I believe I can cut that raft loose," he said. 
"There 's current to drift it right out into the 
river." 

The stump to which the raft was tied was on 
this side of the bayou. The pirates were on the 
other side, and had retreated a hundred feet to 
get away from the bees. More important still, 
their guns appeared to be all in their rowboat, at 
a still greater distance. Perhaps they carried 
revolvers. He would have to risk that. 

"Golly ! Them bees 'll shore sting you to death 
if you goes out yander, Mr. Joe!" Sam muttered 
aghast ; but Joe began to worm himself forward 
through the flat, rustling leaves of the palmetto. 

The mooring stump was not more than fifty 
feet away, and he kept close down under the thick 
cover. The attention of the enemy was entirely 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


347 

taken up with the bees just then, and the bees 
themselves did not notice him until he came close 
to the end of the raft. Then he was suddenly 
stung on the hand, and again on the back of the 
neck ; two or three insects zipped like small bullets 
against his hat; but he heroically refrained from 
even squirming. 

He reached the stump, which grew out of a 
tangle of small shrubbery, and he lay low behind 
this screen while he felt for his knife. The moor- 
ing rope was just above his head, obviously bear- 
ing a heavy strain. A sharp blade would part it 
almost at a touch, but Joe could not find his knife. 
He searched all his pockets. It was not there. 
His heart sank like lead as he realized 
that he must either have lost it or left it on the 
raft. 

He hated to crawl back; he was doubtful of 
being able to get back unobserved. Crouching 
there, he looked up longingly at the rope almost 
above his head. He could hardly untie the knot ; 
he would be shot down long before he could 
loosen it ; but he noticed all at once that the pine 
stub was 'Tat.’^ Purple splinters, crystalline 
with rosin, hung from it. They would burn like 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


348 

candles. He felt for a match, struck it, reached 
up, and set the lowest splinter ablaze. 

He had to rise half upright to do it, and he ex- 
pected to be challenged, to be fired at. But the 
pirates were so much occupied with the bees that 
they failed to notice his momentary rising and 
dropping again. The resinous' splinters flared, 
hissing and smoking; fire shot up over the old 
stump as if it were soaked in kerosene. Then 
there was a sudden shout from Blue Bob. 

^'Look yander ! That thar stump 's afire 

He started forward, and then struck back, 
awed by the furious cloud of flying bees. That 
hesitation lost his chance. The rope was already 
smoldering. The loop parted, smoking. The 
slack dropped into the water, and with a jerk the 
big raft began to drift. 

Joe was squirming back as fast as possible to- 
ward his friends, too fast for caution, for he 
heard one of the river-men shout in a startled 
voice : 

''What 's that movin’ yander ?” and then a roar 
of wrath from the captain and a tremendous oath. 

"Look out ! That raft ’s broke loose.” 

Reckless of the bees, all three men plunged for- 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


349 


ward to secure it ; but with a startling unexpect- 
edness Bob's rifle banged twice from' his ambush. 
Mud spurted into the air, kicked up by the bullets 
striking at the robbers’ feet, and then Bob jumped 
up with rifle ready to fire again. 

‘‘Stand where you are!” he cried. “Next time 
I ’ll shoot to hit somebody.” 

“That’s the stuff! Hold ’em there!” Joe 
yelled, and he jumped up and ran to secure his 
own rifle where he had left it. 

The river pirates had stopped in dead astonish- 
ment, facing the two leveled weapons across the 
bayou. Between the antagonists the raft went 
drifting ponderously out, surrounded by a roar 
and swirl of angry bees. Bees zipped into the 
boys’ faces, but they were too strung up just then 
to notice an odd sting. The pirates, closer to the 
raft, were more hotly attacked. Candler flapped 
in the air with his felt hat and then made a dive 
backward. 

“Stop it!” Joe yelled. “Stand perfectly still 
or we ’ll shoot.” 

Candler stopped. The raft was going out with 
maddening slowness. It scarcely seemed to 
move, and the boys were terribly afraid that it 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


350 

would go aground before it cleared the creek- 
mouth. Once it did seem to touch bottom, but it 
slid free, and began to smash through the screen 
of willows and clinging vines. Its speed in- 
creased. The extreme end was catching the river 
current. 

‘"Soon as it 's out we ’ll bolt for our boat,” said 
Joe, in a low voice. But Blue Bob had forseen 
the finish. 

‘‘Don’t you see that it ’s getting away, an’ 
all our stuff on it?” he shrieked. 
fer the guns, I say. Them kids won’t dare 
shoot.” 

He was not afraid to do what he ordered, and 
he bolted for the rowboat where the guns lay, 
almost as he uttered the last word. Joe yelled 
warningly; both the boys fired without effect. 
Through the smoke Joe saw the three outlaws 
tumbling to pick up their weapons. 

“Run !” Bob ejaculated. 

Sam had already disappeared. The two boys 
dived back into the undergrowth and, crouching 
low, bolted for the river. A burst of firing broke 
out behind them. Bullets ripped the bay-leaves 
and whacked into the cypress-trunks ; but they got 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


351 

to the shore without being touched. Sam had set 
the boat afloat and was holding it ready, wide- 
eyed with alarm and almost pale through his 
black. 

''Shore to goodness, I thought you-all w-as 
killed he exclaimed, and they sent the boat fly- 
ing out into the river. 

As they cleared the shore they saw the end of 
the raft emerging majestically from the inlet. It 
was followed by -a cloud of flying bees. It looked 
as if every hive on the raft was sending out a 
swarm. 

"Can’t go aboard there !” gasped Bob. "We ’d 
be killed. Across the river — quick. They won’t 
dare touch the raft either.” 

They doubled over the oars, passing the raft as 
it came completely out of the creek and turned 
down the Alabama current. They drove the boat 
hard for the shelter of the other shore, but they 
were no more than half-way across when they 
heard a wild whoop and saw the pirates’ boat 
shoot out in pursuit. 

Bob had a despairing feeling that all was lost. 
The glitter of the sun on the water dazzled him ; 
the strain of the fight and the hard rowing left 


352 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


him dizzy. Still he pulled automatically till he 
heard Joe say : 

''Slow up. They Te not after us.’’ 

With a gasp of relief Bob rested on his oars, 
wiped the sweat out of his half -blinded eyes, and 
took in the situation. They had nearly reached 
the farther shore. The river-men were still 
keeping to their own side of the stream, f ollowing 
the raft down, but keeping well back from it. 
For the floating apiary presented a formidable 
spectacle, which even an experienced bee-keeper 
would rather have contemplated from a distance. 

The pine hives were black with crawling bees, 
robbers trying to get in, and the hive-guards 
themselves. Overhead a roaring cloud swirled 
and drifted. It was plain that the raft needed 
no defenders now. 

"I would n’t go aboard it for a bank safe,” said 
Bob, "not even with a veil and smoker. But what 
are those fellows' following it up for, do you 
suppose?” 

"Don’t forget that the boxes full of plunder are 
there still,” replied Joe. "The jewelry and jack- 
knives arid revolvers that we took out of the cabin. 
I expect they want to get them. Maybe they ’re 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


353 

still hoping that the beefs will quiet down, too/’ 

The boys let the boat drift, holding it back to 
keep pace with the slow raft. So did the outlaws 
on the opposite side of the water, and for some 
time the two boats drifted slowly, watching each 
other across the river, but firing no shots, while 
the tumultuous raft roared and fought between 
them. 

^What are they doing? They ’re fixing some- 
thing,” Bob exclaimed at last. 

‘Tixin’ to make a smudge, I reckon,” said Sam. 
who had keen eyes. 

Two of the men had put their heads together 
over something, and a dense smoke suddenly 
arose. The boat turned toward the raft, rowed 
slowly and cautiously, and as it approached the 
men could be seen to turn up their collars and 
pull their hats down over their faces. Muffled 
•to the eyes, Blue Bob stood up in the bow, holding 
a tin pan full of some burning substance that 
smoked heavily. 

‘'He ’s certainly got nerve,” Joe commented. 
“But he can’t stop that riot with a pan of smoke.” 

Holding the pan before him. Blue Bob leaped 
on the raft. The bees drifted momentarily away 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


354 

from the smoke-cloud, but it was not enough to 
subdue them, and the outlaw seemed to move in a 
mist of flying insects. He kept his head, how- 
ever, made his way to the box of plunder, and 
handed it down into the boat. He had to set the 
smoke-pan down to do it, and he must have been 
fearfully punished, but he stuck gamely to the 
task and passed out the second box. His com- 
panions in the boat were less courageous; they 
squirmed and swore and beat at the bees around 
their heads. 

Determined to get all he could, the outlaw 
reached for the boys’ box of tools and amunition ; 
and in doing so he contrived to knock oif the 
cover of the nearest hive. A fresh cloud of 
doubly maddened bees boiled up. It was more 
than the boat’s crew could stand. Frantically 
fighting bees, they pushed off, and backed away 
twenty feet. 

"‘He ’ll be stung to death!” Joe ejaculated. 

With savage oaths Blue Bob commanded the 
deserters to come back for him ; but they refused 
to face the bees again. They yelled to him to 
jump and swim. He caught the smoke-pan. It 
had gone out. He flung it down and brushed and 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


355 

beat frantically at his face. The boat drifted 
farther away, its crew still calling on their chief 
to jump. 

^'He ’ll be killed if he does n’t jump!” Joe ex- 
claimed; and at that moment his ears caught a 
distant, approaching ''thud-thud,” sounding up 
the river. But he did not guess what it was ; he 
did not look that way, absorbed by the drama in 
mid-river, till Sam uttered a wild yell: 

"Look yander, what ’s a-comin’, Mr. Joe. 
Whoop-ee! Oh, glory!” 

A boat was coming around the next bend 
above, a motor-launch, going fast, and apparently 
full of men. With a cry of joy, Joe fired his 
rifle in the air. A shot answered it from the boat, 
and somebody waved a speck of white among the 
crew. 

"It’s help! It’s friends!” Joe exclaimed. 
"Carl ’s been in time.” 

In the uproar of the bees Blue Bob must have 
heard nothing. But his comrades in the boat saw 
and heard the launch immediately. There was a 
momentary staring and consultation ; then 
Candler stood up in the boat and fired two shots 
into the nearest beehives, and a third bullet at 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


356 

the boys’ boat. It clipped the water and glanced 
humming away, and the pirates rowed breakneck 
for shore, ran the boat heavily aground, and 
plunged into the swamp. 

Blue Bob seemed to see the motor-boat then 
for the first time. He shouted once after his 
companions, glanced again up the river, and then 
started for the forward end of the raft, almost 
obscured by the flying bees. He turned round 
half -blindly, and seemed to totter. 

‘‘He ’s badly stung. He ’ll go overboard !” Joe 
exclaimed. 

“We must take him off. Maybe he can’t 
swim,” his cousin agreed, and they rowed hard 
toward the raft. But they had not covered half 
the distance when the pirate either fell or leaped 
into the river, and the yellow water closed over 
him. The boys drove the boat up to the outside 
of the circle of bees, and hung on their oars, wait- 
ing for him to come up. A minute or two passed. 
The raft floated slowly on. 

“I believe he went right under the raft,” Bob 
muttered. 

Finally a battered felt hat drifted out behind 
the logs, but nothing more. The boys circled 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


357 

the raft, but there was no sign of the river pirate. 

''Gone to the bottom!” said Joe; and the boys 
were still rowing about, rather horror-stricken 
at their enemy's sudden end, when the motor-boat 
rushed up. 

"Too late for the fight?” shouted the young 
fellow at the wheel, whom they recognized as 
having been at Magnolia Landing. Carl was 
just behind him; among the others Bob caught 
sight of the face of Uncle Louis, and there were 
three other armed men in the boat. 

"Yes, the fighting 's over. Did you come too. 
Uncle Louis?” cried Joe. "Why, Alice! What 
are you doing here?” 

Alice, flushed with excitement, was in the stern 
beside Uncle Louis, and she was half laughing, 
and almost crying. 

"Oh, boys!” she gasped. Are you both all 
right ? Of course you knew I 'd come. What 's 
the matter with the bees ?” 

"I got this motor-boat and a posse as soon as 
I could,” said Carl. "We went down to Old 
Dick's place and found you 'd gone, and the cabin 
was all torn down. Didn't know what to do; 
finally guessed you must have gone down the 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


358 

river somewhere. We heard the shooting away 
back, and put on steam. But say, what ’s the 
matter with the apiary? Robbing?’’ 

''Rather!” said Bob. "We’ve got to stop it. 
That pirate gang got away into the woods. Any 
use going after them? And old Blue Bob’s 
drowned. Went under the raft and never came 
up.” 

"Well, that ’s mighty good riddance,” said 
Uncle Louis. That man ’s been a plague all long 
the river. Not much use trying to catch the 
others. We ’d never find them in the swamps. 
We ’ll smash their boat, and maybe they won’t 
trouble these parts any more.” 

"Don’t smash that boat,” said Bob. "Let me 
make a smoke-boat of it. We ’ve got to subdue 
those bees right away, or they ’ll rob one another 
all to pieces.” 

On this ingenious suggestion they filled the out- 
laws’ boat with leaves and damp wood, and set 
it on fire. It produced an immense volume of 
choking smoke, and, towing it to the windward 
side of the raft, they fastened it alongside. 

Under that choking smother the war in the air 
suddenly stopped. The bees made in a panic for 


WAR ON THE RIVER 


359 

their own hives, and in a few minutes Bob was 
able to board the raft. Securing a bee-veil, 
gloves, and a smoker, he went up and down the 
rows, puffing smoke into all the entrances, and 
drenching the hives with water. 

^^That ’ll keep ’em quiet for the rest of the day, 
I think,” he said. ''And we ought to have ’em 
ashore by to-night.” 

They had, in fact, gone below the point on the 
river where they had intended to unload the cargo. 
Two miles still farther down, however, there 
was a steamboat landing, a small settlement, 
and a road that led out to the railway, five miles 
to the west. There was scarcely any danger of 
a fresh attack by the discomfited pirates, but 
the motor-boat stayed with them as they floated 
down to this point. It was well that it did so, for 
it took the united efforts of the six men to 
bring the big raft to a halt and moor it at the 
landing. 

When it grew dark they carried the hives 
ashore. The bees were quiet enough now, but 
the raft was littered with pints of dead from the 
fighting. 

"Got ’em somewhere at last!” said Bob, con- 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


360 

templating the rows of hives on the river-bank. 
‘Tt did begin to look as if we never would.” 

‘'They Ve got a thousand miles yet to go,” 
Alice reminded him. “This move has only be- 
gun.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 

THE HARVEST 

A fter the strenuous events of the last week 
the boys felt that they needed a rest, and 
they did nothing for two days. Carl had deliv- 
ered the barge-load of rosin at Harper’s landing; 
and Harper had agreed to send a check to Joe as 
soon as the stuff could be remelted and weighed 
up. In the meantime, Uncle Louis volunteered 
to finance them a little; and he arranged for a 
credit at the bank at Shomo, where they were 
going to take the railroad. 

He went over to Shomo himself with Bob and 
Joe to take the train, and Joe arranged for two 
large motor-trucks to handle the bees. At the 
same time he secured a cabin with a large lot just 
outside of the village for the temporary site of the 
apiary; and engaged board for the whole party 
at the local hotel. 


.361 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


362 

The bees made three truck-loads, and Bob 
thoughtfully suggested that they break up the 
raft and take a load of the best of the lumber — ^^an 
idea that turned out very valuable. For the 
apiary was entering upon a new stage now, in 
which each colony had to be turned into three, 
and there was a demand for new hives and lumber 
at every moment. 

It was a race against time now, for it was al- 
ready nearly the end of April, and unless the bees 
could be delivered in Canada by the last of May 
they would be of little use for the clover-bloom. 
Alice immediately started a vast number of 
queen-cells to be used for the new colonies, and as 
soon as these were well under way she split each 
colony in two by taking off the top story with its 
combs and bees to make a separate hive, dividing 
the forces as equally as possible. 

To their great relief. Harper’s check arrived 
at this time, for the amount of $4200. Half of 
this indeed technically belonged to Mr. Burnam, 
but Uncle Louis , had promised to arrange the 
matter so that the boys should have the use of 
it until Burnam’s debt was paid off. Joe im- 
mediately presented Sam with fifty silver dollars. 


THE HARVEST 363 

a greater sum than the negro had ever seen be- 
fore at one time. 

‘^Dis yere bee-keepin’ is shorely one fine stunt 
Sam gasped, regardless that the bees had not had 
much to do with the acquisition of that money. 

Bob immediately made a flying trip to Mobile, 
ordering a hundred new factory-made hives, a 
thousand more frames, and a hundred pounds of 
foundation, and bringing back with him fifty 
Italian queens, with another fifty to follow by 
mail. 

All this made money vanish. The check for 
the shipment of honey arrived a week later, but 
it was for only $320 after all, and it was evident 
that, but for Joe's investment, the enterprise never 
could have been put through. 

‘'I wish you were n't in it so heavily, Joe," said 
Alice, as they were working together at the queen- 
rearing operations. ‘^It makes me worried for 
fear you 'll lose. It 's all right for us to take 
risks; bees are our trade." 

'Tt 's going to be my trade too," Joe responded 
cheerfully. ''But we 're not going to lose. 
Besides," he added mysteriously, "I could n't lose ; 
it 's been worth it all just to have had — ^to have 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


364 

been — well, you know, just to have been through 
all this with you/’ 

Alice flushed a little under her bee-veil, opened 
another hive, and blew in smoke. 

'We Ve had great luck,” she said. "I hope it 
lasts.” 

It did last. There was no great nor heavy 
honey flow at Shomo, no forests of honey-trees, 
but a steady, unbroken light gathering of honey 
that caused the new colonies to build up mar- 
velously. The new queens hatched and flew and 
began to lay. Once more the Harmans marveled 
at the rapidity of development of the bees in this 
Southern spring, untroubled by cold nights or 
sudden, sharp breaks in the honey flow as are 
usual in the North. By the middle of May all 
the fresh colonies were up to more than half the 
strength of a normal colony — quite strong enough 
for shipment; and after much anxious thought 
Bob gave orders for the freight-car to be left on 
the siding on the eighteenth. 

The die was cast now, and everything had to 
be thought -out in the minutest detail. Hastily 
they tacked screens of wire-gauze over the tops 
and bottoms of the hives ; they cut out lumber and 


THE HARVEST 


365 

scantling for braces and crating in the car ; they 
prepared barrels for water — for bees in transit 
must be sprayed frequently to keep them cool. 
Carl had volunteered to ride with the outfit, and 
he had to carry his own supply of food and drink, 
for, once in the car, he might not be able to leave 
it till he reached his destination. 

The loading of the car occupied all day and 
half of the night, and drew a continuous, curious, 
and amused crowd of the village folk, whose 
universal opinion was that the ‘‘young Yankees’’ 
were insane to think of shipping bee-gums away 
up North by freight. The last hive was finally 
stowed and braced into place, and Carl went 
aboard with a big box of provisions, his barrels 
of water, a spray pump, a pair of blankets, and 
the prospect of a rough journey. The engine was 
already waiting; the car was coupled up to the 
train and the string of freight-cars rattled out, 
with Carl leaning out of the door and waving as 
long as he was in sight. 

The rest of the party had already made their 
preparations, and were to leave by the passenger- 
train that night. Joe presented Sam with an- 
other hundred dollars — all that he dared spare. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


366 

but with the promise of more in the autumn if 
things went well. 

‘'Thankee, Mr. Joe!'’ Sam exclaimed in great 
delight. “Dunno what I 'll do with all dis 
money, nohow. I 'm a-goin' hunt up more gums 
while you-all is away. Reckon I kin fin' lots an' 
lots ef I looks fer 'em. Dis yere woods-ridin', 
bee-keepin', rosin-stealin' bizness is jes' what 
suits me. You come back soon too. Miss Alice. 
I 'll be a-waitin' fer you." 

It was with genuine regret that they bade good- 
by to their faithful black retainer, and boarded 
the train that night for the North. Three whole 
days were consumed in the journey; they must 
have passed Carl with the bees somewhere en 
route, but they did not see him ; and they arrived 
in Ontario and at Harman's Corners at last in a 
spell of chilly May weather that to Joe seemed 
appallingly like winter. 

It was the first time he had ever been north of 
Tennessee, and all things were even more novel 
and surprising to him than Alabama had seemed 
to his cousins. The great, smooth, fertile farms, 
almost devoid of woods, the immense, solid barns, 
the trim neatness of the little village delighted 


THE HARVEST 


367 

him immensely, and he had never seen anything 
like the ocean of dandelions that spread in a 
yellow flood over the whole country. 

There was not much time for mere admiration, 
however, for many things had to be done. Alice 
had left her fifty colonies of bees in the yard of 
the old Harman house; these had to be removed 
from their winter packing-cases and looked after. 
Immediately lumber for three hundred supers had 
to be bought for the new apiary, with three thou- 
sand frames and hundreds of pounds of founda- 
tion, and all these supplies had to be put together, 
while at the same time they had to secure and pre- 
pare two new locations for bee-yards, three or 
four miles away, to avoid keeping too many colo- 
nies in one spot, and overstocking the range. 

In the midst of all this Carl arrived with his 
cargo. He looked considerably the worse for 
wear, and said that he had had little sleep during 
the six days’ journey ; but the bees were in good 
condition and roaring under their wire screens. 
Bob had ordered two motor-trucks and two large 
wagons to meet the car; and after thirty hours 
of hard work the car-load of hives was finally set 
down on their permanent stands. They made 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


368 

three apiaries of more than a hundred colonies 
apiece — one at home and two on the land of 
friendly farmers three and four miles away. 

''Got 'em here at last!" Alice exclaimed with 
satisfaction, looking at the serried rows of 
southern pine hives, on the yellow ground of dan- 
delions, with a clump of flowering apple-trees 
at a little distance. "I don't suppose any bees 
in the world ever did so much traveling or went 
through such adventures.” 

"Yes, it 's hard to realize that these are the 
bees that stood out by Old Dick's cabin,” said Joe. 

"Remember the bayou and the mud and the 
titi and the dewberries? Wonder if they'll 
know the honey-plants here when they see them.” 

But the sagacious insects made no difficulty 
about that. For a single half-day they were con- 
fused and frightened, stirring out little, and cir- 
cling their hives to establish their location; then 
they went energetically to work, and in another 
day they were pouring in and out of the hives, car- 
rying honey and pollen from the dandelions and 
the fruit-bloom. The familiar, working roar 
rose from the yard. 

The boys had secured two bicycles and visited 


THE HARVEST 


369 

the. two “out-apiaries” almost daily. Alice con- 
fined herself mostly to the home yard, but some- 
times inspected the others ; for this was the really 
critical period. Clover-bloom would come within 
three weeks, and it was necessary to get all the 
colonies built up to their maximum strength to 
gather it. 

‘Tor it isn’t as you have it in the South,” she 
explained to Joe, “where there’s honey coming in 
all the time. It all comes from clover here, 
and it only lasts about a month. Everything 
has to be absolutely ready for it, and then 
it ’s a wild rush and scramble, and then it ’s all 
over.” 

It sounded to Joe like an exciting speculation. 
The bees were certainly building up fast; the 
hives were full of young bees and brood, and the 
young queens were laying at a great rate. The 
bloom of dandelions and fruit-trees kept this 
stimulation up, but at last these came to an end, 
and there was a blank. There would be noth- 
ing more till the pink clover opened. 

It was an anxious period. Many of the colon- 
ies were dangerously short of honey. They had 
brought little from the South, and with the heavy 


370 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


brood-rearing they had used up the dandelion- 
honey as fast as gathered. There was no help 
but to feed sugar. Bob brought in a small 
wagon-load of hundred-pound sacks from the 
grocer, and a hundred pounds did not go far. 
And this further expense was an alarming item. 
Bob suggested selling fifty colonies. 

^‘Bees are high now,’' he said. ‘We could get 
six or eight hundred dollars for fifty. It might 
be safer.” 

“Don’t do it,” said Joe. “There is n’t any 
money that could buy these bees, after all we ’ve 
gone through to get them. No, we ’ll go the 
whole hog — make or break !” 

The bees were still building up, though more 
slowly now. On the twelfth of June Alice dis- 
covered the first clover-head open. Within the 
next day or two a perceptible pink began to show 
in the meadows, and then it turned suddenly 
chilly, with a cold rain. 

The clover ceased to open and the bees to fly. 
For a whole week this lasted — a series of heavy, 
cold rains and chilly nights. To Joe it seemed a 
sort of nightmare; he grew disposed to think that 
real summer was unknown in Canada; but the 


THE HARVEST 


371 

world grew marvelously green under the drench, 
and the clover grew tall and rank. 

'Tt's holding the bees back,’’ said Alice, '‘but 
it ’ll be all the better if it only does turn dry now. 
Only we can’t wait too long.” 

The rain ceased at last. The sky cleared; a 
cold north wind blew. It was worse than the wet 
weather. Then, with the sudden shift of the 
Northern spring, the wind swung round to the 
southwest. A shower fell that night, but a warm 
one. It was warm and damp the next morning. 
The earth steamed. 

“Honey weather at last !” Bob cried. “Now if 
it only holds !” 

The bees were at work that day, though but 
little clover was fully out. For the next two 
days they probably got little more than they con- 
sumed; but then, as it seemed, the pastures and 
meadows turned pink and white with a rush. 

Joe heard the roar of the bees that morning be- 
fore he was up. Before thinking of breakfast 
they all went out to look at the apiary. The air 
was like a snowstorm of bees. The insects were 
piling into the hives by scores, dropping heavy- 
laden on the entrance-boards, rushing wildly out 


372 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


again for fresh loads. All the entrance-guards 
had been withdrawn. The honey flow was fully 
under way at last. 

''Now we Te off to a good start/’ said Carl joy- 
fully. "It ’s all a gamble on the weather now for 
the next month.” 

"It ’s a winning game. I just know the luck 
will hold,” Alice laughed. 

Joe went out with Bob that day to look at the 
other yards. The same wild activity was visible 
at all of them. Clover was everywhere — in the 
meadows grown for hay, in the fields where alsike 
was raised for its seed, along the roadsides, in the 
pastures. The air was warm and damp, and as 
the boys passed along the road there was a gust 
of heavy, honey-laden sweetness blown from the 
fields with every breath of wind. 

"I reckon Alice is right,” Joe remarked. "I 
never saw anything like this in my life. I don’t 
believe these Alabama bees will know what to 
do with it all.” 

But the Alabama bees knew very well what to 
do with it. That night there was a heavy, con- 
tented roaring from all the hives in the yard, 
where the bees were arranging and ripening the 


THE HARVEST 


373 

honey gathered that day. Peeping into one of 
the supers, Alice found that they were already 
beginning to turn the foundation sheets into white 
comb and to put honey into them. 

For six days this wild rush continued. The 
weather remained warm but not too hot, with 
heavy dews at night and a dampness in the air. 
Joe was thunderstruck at the flood of honey, so 
different from the slow, dribbling honey flows of 
the South. At the end of the week all the supers 
were built full of comb, nearly filled with honey, 
and the bees were commencing to seal over the 
earliest cells. 

‘Theyfll need more room, and we haven’t any 
more supers to put on. They ’re going to be 
crowded. Do you think they ’ll get to swarm- 
ing?” Bob asked apprehensively. Swarming 
fever would be no joke in that large apiary, dis- 
organizing the whole honey season. 

^‘Hives with a young queen seldom swarm,” 
said Alice. ^‘Most of these queens were reared 
this spring. ^We’d better start to extract just as 
soon as any of the honey is sealed, though.” 

The colonies which had been there all winter, 
however, mostly having queens a year or two old. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


374 

did get to swarming. For several days they 
were kept busy watching for swarms, clipping 
queens, and cutting out swarming-cells. The 
new swarms increased the apiary by fifteen col- 
onies, but they would cheerfully have done with- 
out this addition. 

For the last few days the honey flow had 
slackened a little. The first bloom of the clover 
was waning. More rain was needed. A great 
part of the honey in the supers was sealed over 
white and smooth, and they set up the extracting 
outfit. 

It was a much more elaborate affair than the 
makeshift outfit at Old Dick’s cabin. There was 
a large extractor that reversed automatically, a 
proper uncapping-box, several large tin storage- 
tanks, and an uncapping-knife kept hot by a jet 
of steam passed through the hollow blade. All 
this apparatus was much needed, for there was a 
great deal of honey already, and the supers from 
the ‘‘out-yards” all had to be hauled home for 
extracting and then taken back again. 

The extracting-house was a former back 
kitchen, dry and clean, bee-tight, with screened 
windows and door, looking out upon the apiary. 


THE HARVEST 


375 

Bob and Carl went out early in the morning to 
one of the ^‘out-yards’’ and returned towards 
noon with a load of combs. Leaving them for 
Alice and Joe to extract, they started after din- 
ner to the other yard. They reported that the 
bees were cross ; very little honey was coming in, 
and they had to sort out the finished combs in the 
supers from the unsealed ones. 

“We ’ve only got a beginning of a crop yet,” 
said Bob. “It all depends now on whether we 
get rain. If not — it ’s all over.” 

Joe and Alice worked hard all that day, but had 
not finished when the others came back with a 
fresh load. The next morning all four of them 
embarked on the task, and finished up the lot, 
which Carl took back to the out-yards alone, leav- 
ing Bob to take ofif honey from the home ranch. 

It rained hard that afternoon, forcing him to 
stop outdoor work but filling their spirits with 
renewed hope. They worked in the sticky room, 
full of the smell of the fresh honey, over the 
whirling extractor, and watched the rain pouring 
down the window, till the tanks were all full and 
they had to draw the contents off into tins. 

The crates of sixty-pound tins had been stored 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


376 

in readiness for some time, and they worked till 
late that night, drawing off the honey and crating 
the honey up again for shipment. 

''Ninety tins full,” said Bob, counting them 
when they had finished. "We ought to get eight- 
een cents ; that ’ll make close to a thousand dollars. 
And this rain ’ll start the honey flow again.” 

They did not get eighteen cents a pound, 
though. Next morning Bob telegraphed two of 
the principal honey-dealers of Toronto, and six- 
teen cents was the best offer he could get. And 
at this price he shipped it. 

They were disappointed, too, in the effect of 
the rain. High winds succeeded it; the clover 
bloomed afresh, but there was no honey in the 
blossoms, dried up by the breeze. Every morn- 
ing the Harmans watched the skies with almost 
agonizing interest. The slightest change in the 
weather might be worth thousands. Another 
day of violent rain came, and then once more the 
fickle clover began to yield. 

It yielded slowly and spasmodically at first, a 
heavy day and then a light one. Then it ceased 
altogether, and with sinking hearts they began to 
believe that the season was a failure after all. 


THE HARVEST 


377 


Then the temperature rose; hot, muggy days 
came, with heavy dews, and the roar and rush in 
the bee-yard began again. 

Within four days they had to take out all the 
combs that had not before been handled, and ex- 
tract them. Scarcely had they packed this honey 
when the formerly emptied ones were found full 
again. They were sealed within a few days more, 
and for day after day the extractor was hardly 
ever idle. Alice uncapped honey till her hands 
blistered. The uncapping-box had been filled 
many times with wax, and when they canned up 
the last lot of honey they found it more than twice 
as much as the former shipment. There were 
185 sixty-pound tins which went to the city, and 
this time the market had improved slightly and 
they got seventeen cents a pound. 

'‘Nineteen hundred dollars,’’ Carl calculated. 
"Well, it ’s not a great crop, but we ’ve more than 
covered expenses. And we still have the bees.” 

"Surely it isn’t all over?” exclaimed Joe. 

"Just about,” said Bob, who had been studying 
the clover and the weather-signs. "All we ’ll get 
now will be a few pickings.” 

All things must, in fact, come to an end, and 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


378 

the clover-heads were turning brown. Few fresh 
ones were developing, and there seemed to be no 
honey in those few. The bees worked energetic- 
ally still, but the supers did not show much result 
from it; and by degrees they slackened in their 
efforts and hung outside their hives in great, 
brown, murmuring masses. 

''Might as well take the supers off and call it 
finished,” said Alice, rather sadly. They had 
really no reason to complain, but with a first-class 
season they might easily have taken off twice as 
much. 

A rainy period set in, however, before they 
could take off the supers, and for a week both the 
bees and the apiarists were scarcely ever able to 
go out undrenched. It rained every day, a soak- 
ing, steady rain that produced a wonderful hay- 
crop that year and made the wheat tall and heavy- 
headed. Then it cleared. Going out to investi- 
gate the nearest clover-field Carl came back re- 
porting a fresh crop of bloom about to open. 

"I do believe it ’s going to begin all over 
again !” he exclaimed. 

"That ’s too good to be true,” said Carl, pessi- 
mistically. 


THE HARVEST 


379 

‘^Not a bit of it!'' cried Alice. 'Tt 's our luck. 
Don't we deserve it? I just knew we were going 
to get some more I" 

In fact, after a single drying, chilly day, the 
honey flow began again almost with the vigor of 
the first days. A fresh crop of blossoms had 
come out with the rains, and the weather turned 
warm again, while the water-soaked ground pro- 
vided moisture enough for continual honey secre- 
tion. The emptied combs in the supers began to 
fill once more with the water-clear nectar. The 
apiarists hardly dared to hope for this to last 
long. Every day they looked to see it stop; and 
they made no attempt to keep up with the bees by 
extracting. It was not likely. Bob argued, 
that they would do more than fill the supers at 
the most, and any excess would be put into the 
lower story anyhow, where it would be useful for 
next winter's supplies. 

But for a full ten days the flow of nectar con- 
tinued without a break. The supers were filled, 
crammed, and the bees were building combs under 
the bottom-bars and in all the crevices they could 
reach, as well as storing freely in the lower 
chamber. Two or three colonies even swarmed. 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


380 

fairly crowded out, and disgusted with the lack 
of room. The bee-keepers, jubilant and un- 
certain, knew hardly what to do; and they were 
just making up their minds to extract some of the 
combs to give room when the honey flow dried up 
in a hot wave of three days. The thermometers 
went above ninety-five; the earth baked, and the 
clover blossoms turned brown and shriveled for 
the last time. The hot wave broke up in violent 
thunderstorms and rain, but there was no fresh 
bloom on the clover this time. The season was 
definitely over. 

‘T ’m almost glad of it,” said Joe. ^Tt was get- 
ting on my nerves, watching the weather and 
smelling the air every morning.” 

^T wish we could have just another 
week,” Alice sighed, avariciously. '‘But never 
mind. Old iDick's bees have done pretty well for 
us.” 

There was no hurry now about extracting this 
last installment of the crop, and, besides, they 
had to wait for a fresh lot of sixty-pound tins. 
It was only when they began to take off the honey 
that they realized how large this last installment 
really was. Crowded for room, the bees had 


THE HARVEST 


381 

crammed their combs to the last possible degree. 
Never had any of them seen such great, thick, 
blocky combs, sealed like white slabs from top- 
bar to bottom-bar of the frame. Extracting the 
first few supers amazed them. A super usually 
contains about forty pounds of honey, but these 
were averaging at least fifty. 

‘‘And they Ve stored a lot in the brood- 
chamber,” said Bob. “I lifted some of them. 
They ’re almost heavy enough for winter. We 
won’t need to do much feeding this fall.” 

Bob and Carl were bringing in honey at the 
home yard, while Alice uncapped the combs as 
usual, and Joe tended the extractor and drew off 
honey into the tank. The boiler of the steam- 
heated honey-knife bubbled over its oil flame, and 
the jet hissed upon the dripping wax; stray bees 
buzzed against the window-screen, and the ex- 
tractor roared and whirred. 

“Yes, Old Dick’s outfit has done pretty well 
for us,” said Joe, pausing while Alice uncapped 
a fresh set of combs. “There ’s a heavy super 
of honey like these on every one of our 340 colon- 
ies, I reckon. Say only three hundred. That 
makes — let ’s see !” 


382 THE WOODS-RIDER 

Taking a pencil, be began to figure on the board 
wall. 

''Fifteen thousand pounds. And at sixteen 
cents a pound — ” he ciphered again — "that makes 
two-thousand four hundred dollars. And weVe 
already shipped a little less than three thousand 
dollars’ worth. Over five thousand dollars, 
Alice, at the lowest reckoning! Hurrah for the 
swamp bees!” 

"The pizen bees!” said Alice, laughing. "Yes, 
I hardly hoped for anything better. It ’ll be a 
nice lump to divide, even after we pay back what 
you put into it.” 

"Pay back? I don’t want you to pay back any- 
thing,” Joe protested. "That was an investment, 
and I ’m drawing my dividends.” 

Alice laid down the hot knife that sent a hissing 
spurt of steam from the tip of its blade. 

"We never could have got through without 
your investment, Joe,” she said earnestly. "I 
can’t tell you how glad I am that it ’s turned out 
right. It was mostly on your account that I was 
anxious. But you ’re not going to stay here. 
You’re going back South when the season is 
over, and — ” 


THE HARVEST 


383 

‘‘I hope we 'll all go South," said Joe. “Sam 
is going to look up a lot more gums for us, and 
maybe we can repeat this deal — without any river 
pirates next time. Anwhow, we can start a yard 
of bees down there, and ship up a lot by express 
every spring, as we first thought of doing. We 'll 
get together the biggest apiary in the North — a 
thousand colonies, maybe. I 'm not going to ride 
the turpentine woods any more." 

He stopped, and suddenly put one hand over 
Alice's honey-smeared hand on the edge of the 
extracting-box. 

“Don't you see, Alice," he added, “that I want 
to stay around where you are — ^just as long as 
you want to have me?" 

Alice hesitated, flushing; then impulsively she 
put her other hand over Joe's brown and sticky 
one. 

“I expect I 'll want you a long time, Joe!" she 
said. 

A sudden noise at the door made Alice hur- 
riedly snatch up the knife again. Carl kicked 
the door open and came in, veiled and gloved, 
lugging a heavy super of combs. 

“See here what I found in one of the combs !" 


THE WOODS-RIDER 


384 

he exclaimed. He set down the super and held 
out a brown lump. ‘‘It was in one of the combs 
that came from the South. The bees had built a 
ball of wax around it. They didn’t like it, I 
guess. A souvenir of the old bayou, eh?” 

Joe took up the lump of beeswax, which Carl 
had pinched open. In its center was a conical 
dark object, encysted in the wax, buried as the 
bees will do with an object which they dislike but 
are unable to remove entirely. He picked out the 
hard little lump and held it up. 

It was a flattened leaden bullet. 


THE END 


N 


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